


Goner

by starlight_starbright



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky has a secret Space Tumblr, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time I-Love-You's, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Gaming, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Bucky Being A POW, Military Bucky, Minor Character Death, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Overwatch - Freeform, PTSD, Pen Pals, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Recreational Drug Use, Science Nerds, Secret Santa, Tony Is a Good Bro, mentions of past abusive relationship, mentions of torture, rating has gone up, sam is a good bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_starbright/pseuds/starlight_starbright
Summary: Steve meets Bucky through a pen pal program, and their relationship grows from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is Goner by Twenty-one Pilots which basically inspired this fic.

It’s a bright, sunny day in New York when Steve finally gets his letter. He’s been waiting weeks for this—his pen-pal assignment. It’s sitting in his mailbox looking inconspicuous and plain, but Steve’s so damn excited for it. He’s always sent out care packages, but now he’ll get to correspond with one person in particular, which is going to be nice. He’ll get to know someone new. As long as that person writes back, that is. 

The letter contains his approval and the name of his soldier and Steve reads it on the way up to his apartment. Smiling like an idiot, he grabs a pen and paper and begins to write.

_July 2016_

_Sergeant James Barnes,_

_Should I call you that, or do you go by something else? Jimmy? Or just James?_

_My name is Steve Rogers. I'm 24. And I don’t really know what to say, but I can tell you a little bit about myself. I live in New York, have my whole life. I work with Peter Parker at SpiderWeb Comics in Manhattan—I do my own line of comics for them. (I'm not sure if you’ve heard of us, but the company is a pretty big deal over here). I like to draw and bake in my spare time. Maybe I could send you cookies sometime? You could tell me your favourite and I’ll send you some._

_You could actually just send me a list of stuff you’d want and I could maybe send it to you?_

_So some random facts about me: I like to draw in my free time—mostly portraits. I have two crazy cats named Amy and River. I play a lot of video games, mostly Overwatch and Halo. I play the guitar, mostly learning covers of Cage the Elephant songs, but I’ve written a bit._

_But enough about me, what did you do before you enlisted? Do you have any family? A partner? Sorry if that’s weird to ask._

_Thanks for reading this. Stay safe over there._

_-Steve_

Steve seals the letter, addresses it, and jogs down to the lobby to put it in the outgoing mail, hoping his soldier will write back.

-

The letter comes a two and a half weeks later. Steve sprawls on his couch to read it, stupid smile plastered on his face.

_August 2016_

_Steve,_

_Jesus, don’t call me Jimmy. Or James. Call me Bucky. That’s what everyone else calls me. I'm 26, and I've been in the military since I was 18._

_And thanks for writing me. Yeah, I know Peter Parker. That’s pretty cool that you get to work for him. Do you know him personally? I’ve seen some SpiderWeb comics. They're literally amazing—don't think I've seen any of yours though._

_I’d love to see your own artwork sometime. Are your cats named after Amy Pond and River Song? Because that’s pretty cool. I mostly listen to punk and classics—Fall Out Boy, Panic!, MCR, Journey, Bon Jovi, etc._

_Thanks for giving me questions, because I woudn't've known what to say either. It’s the first time I’ve done this pen-pal thing, so._

_I actually live in Brooklyn. Weird, huh? Before I enlisted, I did two years of school and got my AS in music. I wanted to go further, but it just didn’t pan out._

_I have a sister, but that’s it. Our mom died when we were younger and we got bounced around in foster homes. If by “partner” you mean am I dating anyone, that would be a no. And it’s not weird to ask. We’re getting to know each other. That’s good. Are you dating anyone?_

_I want to know more about you. Tell me more? What do you look like? What’s your favourite colour? What are your friends like?_

_Thanks for writing me. I look forward to your next letter._

_P.S. Don’t go out of your way, but I love chocolate. If you could just drop a Cadbury bar in with your next letter or something I’d love you forever._

_-Bucky_

Steve smiles at the letter for a moment before grabbing his keys, his jacket, and going to the store. He buys an entire box of milk chocolate Cadbury bars and takes them home, a plan forming in his head.

When he gets home, Steve preheats the oven and starts melting down the chocolate. He saves two bars for the other part of his plan, setting them aside on the counter. He mixes the batter for the cookies, humming to himself. When the chocolate is all melted, he mixes everything together and rolls the batter into balls. All together, its about four dozen cookies. He gets to writing Bucky’s letter while they’re baking.

_August 2016_

_Bucky,_

_I know you want more than just chocolate. You can tell me. I’ll get you whatever you want. It doesn’t matter what it is. I want to._

_My mom died too, two years ago. I don’t have anymore family. Other than my friends. And no, I'm not dating anyone. I've been single for about two years now. My last relationship was pretty rough, but it's a long story and I won't bore you with the details._

_My favourite colour changes, but right now it’s blue. A pale blue._

_I’m . . . not much to look at, but, if you want to know. I'm pretty short, maybe 5’1, I have a lot of tattoos, and I have blond hair and blue eyes._

_My friends are great. They’re always pulling me out of fights. Especially Natasha and Clint (who are dating). They always seem to be the ones wiping the blood off of my face. And before you get any ideas, I don’t go looking for trouble. I just don’t like bullies, and according to Natasha, I'm ‘too dumb to walk away.’ So there’s that._

_My other friend Sam has tried to teach me how to fight, but he was always scared he’d break me, so I let him off the hook for it. Tony just sits back and laughs. (Yeah, that’s Tony Stark of Stark Industries. We went to high school together—all of us)._

_Anyway, I can take care of myself. A few bruises never killed anyone, right? Pneumonia on the other hand, has almost killed me once or twice. And with winter coming, I have to be extra careful. I get sick a lot. I have really bad asthma and a really weak immune system. But I do okay. I have enough money to pay for my medicine now. I didn’t always. We were really poor growing up and it feels weird to have money now. I try to be careful with it even though I make more than enough. Not that I'm bragging—I'm not. Just explaining. Never mind._

_But I kinda . . . drew something for you? I hope that’s not weird. It’s just you wanted to know about me and my friends, so I drew us together. I’m also including a photo of myself, just for reference. Oh, and your cookies, of course._

_Enjoy it. Share it with your team. Play nice._

_Stay safe._

_-Steve_

After the cookies cool, Steve puts them in a Tupperware container and places them in the box along with the sketch, picture, chocolate bars, and his letter. He hopes Bucky likes the drawing, and he doesn't even want to think about the photo of himself he'd selected. Best to put it out of his mind for now. 

-

Steve has to explain Bucky to Natasha when he gets the next letter. It’s seven in the morning and she had stayed over the night before. He’d gotten the letter last night but had been too tired to read it. Now she’s demanding explanations for the smile on his face. He tells her that Bucky’s nice, that he lives here, too when he’s not over there. He has to tell her this because she reads the letter over Steve’s shoulder. 

_September, 2016_

_Holy shit, Stevie._

_These cookies are amazing. Thank you. You’re a genius. No fuckin’ way I'm sharing these, man. No way._

_I'm sorry this took so long. We got sent out on mission and it got lost and sent back and I had to resend it._

_And Jesus fuck, Stevie. You sell yourself short (no pun intended). ~~You’re gorgeous~~. Your eyes are the bluest blue I’ve ever seen. It’s crazy. _

_You’re so talented, Steve. Christ. And you know Tony Stark? How many famous people do you know? That’s pretty cool._

_Don’t ever feel embarrassed about telling me about yourself. If you're not sure, just assume I want to know. I like talking to you—it’s not a problem. It’s actually pretty awesome that you make so much money. I know how those kinds of places pay, so I had an idea. Plus you're really talented, so good job, man. You made it._

_Anyway, this is going to be a short letter because we have a mission we’re leaving for tonight. I’ll jot my Skype username at the bottom if you wanna talk sometime._

_-Bucky (james.b.barnes21)_

_P.S. I mean it, you’re gorgeous._

“Steve has an army boyfriend,” Natasha sings, teasing. Steve throws his pen at her before booting up Skype on his computer and adding Bucky.

“Nat,” Steve breathes, staring at the screen. “Nat come look at his icon.” She does, and she gawks with him. The guy is beautiful. All tan, hard muscle and dark hair and bright eyes. His smile . . . he’s beautiful. And he has a prosthetic metal arm. Steve decides not to ask Bucky about that. The brunet will tell him when he's ready. 

“Shit, Steve. You get all the hot ones.” She laughs and shoves his shoulder playfully. “Looks like he’s online. Why don’t you call him?” Steve looks up at her, panicked. “I gotta leave, but seriously. Just call him!” she calls over her shoulder, leaving quietly. It takes a few minutes for Steve to gather the courage to hit the call button. He can't help but think Bucky won't like the way he looks, or the way he talks, or his personality in general. Eventually, he takes a deep breath, and hits video call. Bucky answers on the third ring.

“Steve?” he asks, but Steve can't answer. He’s too busy staring. Bucky doesn’t have a shirt on. He’s in a room and he’s alone and he doesn’t have a shirt on. Steve’s a goner.

“Hey,” Steve says, trying and failing to keep his voice even.

“You look even better face-to-face,” Bucky says and then blushes. “I mean . . . uh . . .” Butterflies flutter in Steve's stomach, and he takes a sharp breath. 

“I know what you mean,” Steve says, laughing. He has a blush of his own spreading across his cheeks. “How are you?” Steve can hear distant voices in the background, so Bucky must be back on base.

“Our mission went well, not that I can tell you a lot about it.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair and smiles. It’s adorable. “I can't . . .” he trails off, blushing. Steve pulls his computer closer and really inspects Bucky. His hair is short, but  _just_  long enough to fall into his eyes a bit. He needs to cut it—Steve’s surprised the military lets him have it that long. Steve snaps out of it, remembering Bucky’d been about to say something.

“You can't what?” he asks with a teasing smile. Bucky sighs, running his hand through his hair again.

“I can't believe how fucking attractive you are, okay?” Now it’s Steve’s turn to blush.

“I . . .” he tries, at a loss for words. Bucky visibly tenses.

“I'm sorry . . . I just . . . sorry.” The man on the other side of the screen looks down, cheeks flaming red. Steve trips over himself to get the words out.

“No!” he almost yells. “No, don’t be,” he says, calmer now. “I'm just . . . not used to people finding me attractive.” Steve glances away and then back at the screen, blushing. Bucky looks up, expression almost offended. 

“Are you serious?” he asks, eyes wide.

“Girls always find me too feminine and guys always treat me like a girl. Like I'm breakable. Which, I guess is half true. But I'm not gonna fuckin’ break if someone hugs me too tight or gets a little rough.” Steve’s words catch up with him and he backpedals. “You didn’t need to know that.” Steve is glad when Bucky just laughs.

“It’s fine. Really. Good to know.” And then Bucky fucking  _winks_  at him. 

“Why, Sergeant Barnes, are you  _flirting_  with me?” Steve clasps his hand over his heart and gives Bucky a mockingly surprised look.

“What if I am?” Bucky shoots back, not missing a beat. Steve breaks into a grin and laughs. 

“I think I can live with that,” Steve murmurs, still smiling. Bucky runs that hand through his hair—a nervous habit, Steve gathers. 

“Good.” There’s a moment of silence while they smile at each other, then a siren pierces the air and there's another voice in the background. 

“Sarge!” someone calls. “C'mon man we gotta go!” Someone else comes into view and Bucky sighs. 

“This is Gabe,” the brunette explains. The other man leans down to peer into the camera and waves. The siren is still blaring in the background, but neither men look worried. 

“You must be Steve! You make great cookies, man. Seriously.” The other man is grinning and Steve smiles again, tilting his head. 

"Is that a siren?" he asks, and Bucky throws a glance at Gabe before looking back at Steve. 

"It's just a drill," Gabe assures Steve, but it kind of falls flat. There's something wrong and Bucky isn't talking about it either because he can't or he doesn't want to. 

"Okay, Stevie. Guess I should go figure out what's going on. It was great getting to finally meet you." Bucky flashes a smile at Steve and Steve can't help but smile back. The siren has stopped, and Gabe has left the room. 

“Right back at you. Stay safe, jerk.” Steve cracks a smile when Bucky laughs—it’s almost impossible not to.

“I will, punk. Bye.” Bucky gives a small wave and the call disconnects. Steve spends a few more minutes staring at the screen and processing the conversation before shutting his laptop and getting ready for work. He pulls on tight black jeans and a light blue button up before pulling on his combat boots and going into the bathroom to try and force his hair into submission.

After ten minutes, he gives up because if he doesn’t leave now, he’s going to be late. So he grabs his things and makes his way to work, blocking out the world via headphones jammed in his ears. He ignores everyone on the street and on the subway. When he gets to the SpiderWeb Comics building, he presents his ID card while the security guard rolls his possessions through the scanner and waves him through. He says hello to Paige at the desk and some intern comes up and hands him a cup of coffee. 

He steps into the elevator, making himself scarce in the back corner after pushing the button for the tenth floor, and checks the notifications on his phone. He has a request on Facebook from a James Barnes.

Bucky added him on Facebook. And Steve accepts. 

So as the elevator stops at literally every floor, Steve Facebook stalks his penpal. He looks through his pictures, his posts, his about page. He identifies as bisexual according to his Facebook, and it says he's catholic. He's been in the army for, _damn_ , a long time. 

It also says he's active now, and Steve opens a chat window then pauses. Steve is genuinely worried about Bucky—sirens don't go off on a military compound for no reason—so he types out a quick greeting and leaves it, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. 

When he gets to his floor, he gets out of the elevator and goes to his desk, pulling out his computer. He immediately pulls Facebook messenger up in one window before opening up his work files. After he's opened everything and gone over his emails, Steve checks back to Facebook and sees a fucking novella written out for him. 

Bucky: _Hey, Stevie. Sorry I had to run out on you earlier, there was a perimeter breach that I had to attend to. Before you start worrying, no one got hurt, I'd tell you if I was. We thought it was a drill, but it wasn't. Someone had broken our perimeter and blah blah military terms. Basically someone wandered too close to our base and had to be steered away. Gently._

_I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, even for just a moment. Being out here, away from people . . . I don't know how to talk to anyone anymore. It's like my entire brain is so focused on the military and what they want me to do that I can't be myself and I hate that. I just felt like I needed to apologise again._

_A few things you should know: we're eight and a half hours ahead of you here, and the wifi sucks ass, so times that we can talk online will be very limited. I'd like to continue sending letters, if that's okay. You're the first person to treat me like I'm normal in a very long time._

Bucky's text bubble shows that he's typing, but when Steve looks down again it's gone. So he replies, letting Bucky know that he has a very flexible schedule anyway so it won't be a problem, that if Steve needs to work around some things then that's fine. But it doesn't seem like enough, so he types one more thing. 

Steve: _Really, Buck. Don't worry about it. I was just surprised, honestly. I don't ever expect people to find me attractive. It's a self esteem/anxiety issue that I'm working on. You have nothing to apologise for._

Bucky _: Well I definitely don't want to make you feel anxious. I have a guy on my team who has really bad social anxiety, is yours like that?_

Steve _: Kind of, but I've always been pretty good around people. Crowds do make me uneasy sometimes, but it's mostly cause I can't see around people. My anxiety is brought on from a lot of bullying when I was younger. At the time, I had these really bad circle-frame glasses and parted my hair like it was the 1920's._

Bucky _: That still doesn't give them the right to push you around._

Steve _: They didn't need permission, they were bigger than me and I didn't know how to keep my mouth shut. Good thing my mom was a nurse._

He immerses himself in his work, finishing up the last issue in the series he's been working on, all the while trading messages with Bucky. They talk about everything, and when Bucky starts talking about his childhood home, Steve recognises it. There was a giant brick house on the corner of his street as a kid, and he remembers a brunet boy and a little girl living there until he was in sixth grade and they moved away. 

Steve: _You lived right down the street from me._

Bucky: _Are you serious?_

Steve: _Yeah, but I went to a private school, so it makes sense that we never crossed paths._

Bucky: _And to think I could've spent our whole lives flirting with you._

Steve has to leave that message hanging for a second to text Natasha a picture of it. She responds immediately with five exclamation points and nothing else. 

Bucky: _I'm sorry, too soon?_

Steve: _No, it's fine. I'm just not used to being flirted with._

Bucky: _Really? You're amazing_. 

Steve: _You barely know me._

Bucky: _I'd like to know you better._

Steve: _Right back at you, Buck._  

So Bucky likes Steve. In a romantic way. How did Steve get himself into this? He's never had a long distance relationship before, especially not with a soldier. If this turns into something more, they're going to have a hard time maintaining a relationship from opposite sides of the world. 

Bucky: _I gotta get off of here, I've already spent too much time on the computer for the day._

Steve: _Okay. Talk later?_

Bucky: _Definitely. Bye, punk._

Steve: _Bye, jerk. Stay safe out there._

Despite the obstacles in their way, Steve has a good feeling about Bucky. He's the first guy to see Steve as a person and not some breakable object. That's not to say that all of Steve's relationships have been terrible, because there was Peggy, and she was great. And there was Tony . . . no, that relationship actually was terrible. They're much better off as friends. And then there was the brief period with Clint—which was nice while it lasted, but they didn't work out. 

Most recently there's been Brock, and since Steve doesn't want to think about that time in his life, he redirects himself. So Steve takes some deep breaths and gets back to work, assuring himself that this is perfectly normal. He likes Bucky, and Bucky likes him, and they're flirting. It's not like there's anything serious just yet—maybe ever—so Steve feels pretty comfortable with where their relationship is. Or he's trying to. 

The workday comes and goes, and Steve stays at work. He's so close to finishing this page that he doesn't mind staying until six or seven to get it done. When his brain is fried from staring at a screen all day, Steve takes the subway home and plans to make himself dinner when he gets there. Amy and River come running up to Steve as soon as he opens the door, and he goes to make sure their food and water bowls are full. 

After dinner, Steve checks his Facebook messenger, hoping for something from Bucky, but there's nothing. So Steve goes to take a shower, leaving his computer open on Skype. He marks himself as "away" and then hops under the water. He's really hoping that Bucky will get on, and when get gets out of the shower, he sees that he has a message. 

Bucky: _I don't have time to talk, but I just wanted to let you know that seeing you and talking to you really got me through my day. Have a good night, punk._

-

It's been a month since Steve has heard from Bucky. He's sent the soldier messages on Facebook, and Bucky'd called him twice on Skype but both times Steve had been asleep and not online. Steve doesn't feel right without knowing what's happened, but there are so many deadlines for work with all the holidays coming up that Steve has to immerse himself into his drawing.

He doesn't have time for anything else. 

He still worries about Bucky—every day he checks Bucky's Facebook for activity and every day he comes away disappointed. He's taken to leaving his laptop on at night with Skype up just in case, but he hasn't gotten any calls. Having real feelings for someone was such a foreign feeling for Steve when he first met Bucky, but now Steve is almost empty without him. He looks forward to the letters, the messages, the calls. He misses Bucky's voice and seeing his face and his damned beautiful smile. 

He's worried something bad has happened to Bucky or his team, worried they have been hurt, or moved somewhere else. Steve is hoping, maybe, that if he writes a physical letter, the military can get it to Bucky. Other than sitting around waiting, that's all Steve can do. 

-

_November 2016_

_Buck,_

_I know we haven't gotten to talk much recently—I know it's been crazy for me at work and I got sick a couple weeks back—but I'm hoping that will change over the holidays. Do you get any type of leave where you can just relax?_

_I made you and your team some more cookies, they're in the box. Packed a couple of things just for you, too. A blanket, some new socks and underwear, some shampoo and some bar soap. Also a pack of cigarettes cause I'm betting you'd have to sell your soul to get some over there._

_I worry about you, Buck, but I know you can take care of yourself. And I just really want you to know that I care about you, and that you've got someone now. You know, if you want that. I want that. I'm going to shut up now._

_Stay safe over there,_

_Steve._

-

Steve gets the letter two weeks later, and isn't even in his apartment yet before he's ripping it open. It's been almost two months now since he's heard anything from Bucky, and he was starting to suspect the worst. 

_November 2016_

_Okay, first of all, I'm so sorry I dropped off the face of the earth for so long. A lot happened, too much for me to put in writing, but it was pretty bad. It's really fucking good to hear from you._

_What kind of sick? Are you okay? I worry about you too, Stevie. All the time. I still carry your picture around with me. And of course I want that, Steve, are you fucking kidding me? You're amazing. The first day of leave for me is in three weeks, actually. I was planning on coming home. I don't know any of the details, but we could figure it out. I only get a month, but it's better than last year when I didn't get any time at all. Maybe, if you wanted to, we could meet? I mean, only if you're comfortable with that._

_I know this is all moving kind of fast, and I have no expectations for when we do meet, I'd just like to meet you in person, you know? I carry your picture with me when we go off base—it stays in my pocket at all times so that when I feel like the entire world is crashing around me I can look at your face and remind myself that yeah, I got someone now._

_Just message me on Facebook or Skype or something if you wanted to get together over my leave._

_Bucky._

Steve frowns at the letter for a moment, worried about what _it was bad_ means. What had happened that kept Bucky from writing him or getting online? Did he get hurt? Did someone on his team get hurt? But Steve knows he can't ask any of that, that Bucky can't or won't tell him. He'll wait for Bucky to open up about it. 

Steve reads and rereads the letter until it's finally sunk in that Bucky wants a relationship with him, and then he's diving for his laptop. He texts Natasha and Sam while Facebook loads, telling them what happened in all caps with lots of exclamation points. Steve's heart skips a beat when Skype starts ringing.  He clicks answer and waits for the picture to load, and boy is he awarded for his patience. 

Bucky is shirtless, a white t-shirt thrown over his shoulder like he'd just been working out. He has earbuds in, Steve is guessing so that other people can't hear their conversation. It's incredibly hot, and Steve squirms a little when Bucky smiles at him. 

"Heya, Stevie," Bucky says, and Steve smiles. 

"Hey, Buck," Steve replies, and holds up the letter. "Got your letter." The brunet looks nervous now, so Steve smiles again. "There's a cute diner right down the street from my apartment that has the _best_ milkshakes. I was thinking, when you get here, I could take you out." There's a beat of silence, and then Bucky grins.

"That sounds amazing, Stevie. I'd really like that, but . . ." Bucky trails off and Steve's heart drops. 

"But?" Steve prompts, hoping he won't regret it. 

"Are we together now or?" Bucky blurts out, glancing away from the screen and fiddling with his dog tags. "I mean, I just wanna know, if you thought that . . . maybe we could--"

"Yes, Buck," Steve says, interrupting Bucky. The brunet stops abruptly, eyes wide. 

"Really?" Bucky asks. "I had hoped, but with me being in the military I'll be away all the time and—"

"Bucky, we'll figure it out," Steve says, stopping the brunet's panic in its tracks. "I'm willing to figure all of this out with you because I really care about you. We have time." Steve smiles at Bucky again, wishing he could touch him. Wishing he could just pull the soldier into a hug and hold on as tight as he can. But since he can't, he makes a mental note to do it as soon as he lays eyes on Bucky in that airport. 

They spend the rest of their limited time talking about plane tickets and scheduling and how many people Bucky needs to see. Steve tells Bucky about his comic, even holds up a few of the panels to show the brunet his work. 

Too soon, Bucky is shifting anxiously like its time for him to go, and Steve really doesn't want to say goodbye. 

"I'll see you Sunday, okay?" Bucky says, and Steve nods. "I have your number, I'll let you know when I land." And it's funny, because Steve is already planning to surprise Bucky at the airport. 

"Stay safe, Buck," Steve says softly, and Bucky waves a bit before disconnecting. Steve is pretty excited about the fact that Bucky is coming to New York, and he texts the group chat to tell them what's happening. 

Nat: _Omg!!! So excited for you._

Sam: _Bout time you got laid._

Tony: _A soldier, Steve? Could you be more cliche?_

Nat: _Tony, leave him alone. The dude is fucking hot._

Steve: _THANK YOU NAT_

Clint: _pics or it's not true._  

Tony: _Yes, lets see the mystery soldier._

Steve sends a picture, already knowing the response. 

Clint: _holy fuck._

Tony: _SHIIIIIIIIT_

Nat: _Told you_. 

Sam: _Congrats, Steve. You deserve something good in your life. Especially when that something is as good-looking as Bucky._

Steve: _Thanks guys._  

Talking with Bucky online and through letters is one thing, but meeting him face-to-face? Steve is afraid Bucky won't like what he sees. After all, he has only ever seen Steve's face. But Steve isn't worried. Bucky'd said he was gorgeous, that he couldn't believe how attractive Steve is. And Steve feels comfortable with Bucky. 

So he squashes the nerves and gets into bed, hoping the next three days fly by so he can see his boyfriend in person. 

-

It's Sunday and Steve is freaking out. He has to be at the airport in two hours and he's still not ready. Natasha has been over helping him clean, but his apartment was really messy and it's honestly huge, so it's taken some time. Amy and River have been getting in the way all morning, but now that Steve and Natasha have secluded themselves to one room, the cats are sleeping on the bed. 

"Steve, you need to leave in fifteen minutes, just pick one," Natasha says, motioning on the three outfits laid out over Steve's bed. Steve has been trying to decide for the last fifteen minutes while he did his hair. His best friend has been awfully patient with him. 

"Okay, fine. The blue one." The shirt is a pale blue button down that Natasha says brings out Steve's eyes. Or whatever. Natasha picks up the shirt and the black jeans she paired with it and hands them over. Going into the bathroom, Steve changes quickly and fixes his hair one last time. 

"C'mon, let me see," Natasha encourages, and Steve exits the bathroom. The redhead looks him over, arms crossed over her chest. After a moment, she goes to the closet and pulls out Steve's favourite leather jacket and hands it to him. Sliding it on, he raises his eyebrows at the redhead. "You look good, Steve," she approves. "Now since you obviously can't pick him up on your Harley, you can take my car. I'll take the subway home." Natasha holds out the keys, and Steve is about to refuse, but she levels him with her _don't you dare_ look. Instead, he thanks her and grabs his keys, his inhaler, his wallet, and his phone before rushing out the door. 

The first snow of the season is falling and traffic is hell, but Steve gets through it. He's too busy overthinking what he's about to do to mind sitting in traffic a bit longer. He's meeting his military boyfriend at the airport. To spend an entire month with him—including Christmas—in person.

Steve is freaking out by the time he pulls up to the curb, especially because he's surprising Bucky. What if Bucky has someone else coming to pick him up? That would be awkward. What if Bucky doesn't want to see him yet? What if he wanted to wait? Steve's phone buzzes and he tries to push everything out of his head so he can focus and open Facebook. 

Bucky: _Just landed, getting my bag. Excited to see you tonight. :)_

Steve: _How about you see me right now? ;)_

Steve waits for a moment with baited breath as the message delivers and gets marked as read. He should think before he sends texts, his anxiety really can't take this. 

Bucky: _Wait...are you here?_

Steve: _Just get your bag and come out to pickup. ️_

Bucky: _You don't gotta tell me twice, babe._

Steve stares at his phone, at the text on his screen. Bucky calling Steve _babe_ really shouldn't make him as happy as it does. He takes a screenshot of it and sends it to the group chat. 

Clint: _you're his babe!!!!_

Tony: _Awh, how sickening_. 

Nat: _Shut the fuck up Tony._

Steve: _Yeah, let me live._

Sam: _I can already tell this is going to become a thing._

Clint: _steve sending us screenshots of their conversations? that's already a thing in this chat._

Sam: _You right._

Steve: _And memes._

Tony: _Can't forget about the memes._

Nat: _Never forget about the memes._

Steve looks up just in time to see Bucky exit the building and step out onto the sidewalk and his breath catches. Bucky is even hotter in person. His too-long hair is falling into his eyes, so he raises the hand not holding his bag to brush it away. He's in his fatigues, and Steve can't say he's disappointed with the look. There's a confused look on his face, like he's not sure where to look, so Steve gets out of the car. 

"Buck!" Steve calls, waving the brunet over. Bucky freezes for a moment when he sees Steve, and then he's jogging over, only to immediately take Steve's face in his hands and kiss him. Right in front of God and everybody. His lips are so soft, and he tastes like peppermint and sugar, and Steve just melts. But since Bucky _is_ in his fatigues, he pulls away with a wistful look on his face. 

"It's so good to see you, Steve," Bucky murmurs, pulling Steve into another hug. Steve hugs back, amazed by how warm Bucky is. The snow is picking up, and Steve had taken his jacket off and left it in the car because honestly, it ruins his outfit. Right now, though, he's missing the warmth. 

"Back at you," Steve says, going to pop the trunk. Bucky puts his bag in and shuts it, and then gets in on the passenger side as Steve gets in the driver's seat. "If you wanna go home and get settled in, that's fine," Steve says casually, like his entire being isn't hoping for Bucky to do the exact opposite. 

"Yeah, I'd like to go back to my place, but you can hang around if you want." And that seems like a great compromise to Steve. As Bucky pulls out his cell—a beaten-up flip phone—Steve can't help but notice the glove he wears on his left hand. Why would Bucky be ashamed of his prosthetic? Maybe he just doesn't want to deal with the staring and all the questions. 

"Can you get me there from here, or do you need to put it in the GPS?" Steve asks, pulling out of the airport and back onto the highway. 

"I'll put it in the GPS just in case," the brunet replies, and Steve hands over his phone, the maps app open on the screen. Bucky types quietly for a moment and then hands the phone back to Steve, where he rests it on his thigh so he can see the directions. Bucky lives in Manhattan--interesting. 

"How was your flight? Steve asks, breaking the silence. Bucky had been looking out the window with a confused look on his face, and Steve wonders how long it's been since he's been home. 

"Long," the brunet mutters, looking over at Steve with an easy smile. "Food sucked, there was a baby that wouldn't stop crying for the whole eighteen hours from Frankfurt to here." Bucky sighs, and looks back out the window. 

"You sure you don't wanna take a nap? We can meet up later, I really don't mind." Steve wants to hang out with his boyfriend, of course he does, but Bucky had just endured a trans-continental flight. If he needs a break, Steve won't begrudge him that. Bucky seems to be thinking about it, trying to figure out why Steve would be okay with that, so Steve throws a smiles at him. "As much as I'd love to hang out with you, I don't want you to be half-dead on our first date." Steve doesn't see his face, but he hears Bucky exhale a laugh, and that's good enough for him. 

"Then I guess I should at least shower," Bucky acquiesces. There's a silence that stretches out then, comfortable, but Steve still feels on edge. So he turns some music on, a good buffer. It's quiet enough that they can talk over it if they want, but you can hear it over the car. 

They chat easily for the next twenty minutes, enjoying each other's presence. Traffic is slow, but it's okay because Steve wants to stay in this car with Bucky for as long as he can. He knows he'll see his boyfriend later, but he's more interested in right now. Maybe Steve himself will go home and take a nap, because he's honestly exhausted and it'll keep him from pacing the whole time. 

"This is me," Bucky says, pointing at the last apartment building on the left as Steve turns into the apartment complex. He parks and turns the car off, leaning back in his seat. 

"Guess I'll see you tonight?" Steve asks, and Bucky turns to face him. 

"Yeah, I'll see you tonight," he says, and leans in. Steve meets him halfway and marvels once again at how soft his boyfriend'a lips are, and then it's over and Bucky is getting out of the car. Unlocking the doors, Steve turns to make sure Bucky grabs his bag out of the back seat and then he waits while Bucky gets inside, waving as he leaves. 

On the way home, Steve can't seem to shake his anxiety, so he calls Sam. They’ve been best friends since high school, and Sam’s always been the person Steve turns to when he needs help calming down or getting out of his head. And that’s fitting, seeing as Sam is a therapist now.

“Hey, Steve,” Sam answers in a cheery voice. There’s noise in the background, like the TV is on, but it’s not too loud for Steve to hear over. “What’s up, man?”

“Well I just dropped Bucky off at his apartment after picking him up from the airport as a surprise,” Steve replies, his voice wavering a little.

“I can hear the expression you're making right now,” Sam mutters. “What’s going on in your head?”

“You can hear my facial expression?” Steve asks teasingly, chuckling softly as he gets off at his exit.

“I know you, man,” Sam says, like it’s obvious. “I know how you sound when you’re freaking out about something. How did it go?” It amazes Steve that Sam is so good at reading him—especially over the phone—and it shows Steve that Sam really cares. He isn’t asking just for the sake of asking—he actually wants to know how Steve is feeling and how meeting his boyfriend went.

“It was great,” Steve gushes. “The first thing he did was kiss me, and Sam . . . he’s an amazing kisser.”

“Uh-huh,” Sam mutters, an indication for Steve to continue.

“He’s even more beautiful in person, and the drive back wasn’t weird at all. There were a few times when he got really quiet, though, but I think that was because it’s been a while since he’s been in the states.” Steve falls quiet for a moment, giving Sam time to give him feedback. Traffic is backed up, so he has time.

“Most soldiers come back with some sort of PTSD, and from what you’ve told me about him being in Special Forces, that’s probably the case. I’d say your best bet is to let him come to you. Don’t press him for his backstory in the military, just be there to listen when he’s ready.” The line goes quiet for a moment, and Steve finds himself nodding even though Sam can't see him.

“Thank you, Sam. I’ll make sure to do that. I don’t want Bucky to feel like I'm pressuring him into anything.”

“And keep in mind that he’s crazy about you,” Sam adds. “He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t, don’t let your insecurities sabotage you.” And from anyone else, that may have been insulting, but from Sam, Steve appreciates the reminder. He has a habit of letting the way he feels about himself affect how close he lets others get to him, and he doesn’t want to screw things up with Bucky.

“I appreciate that. I’ll let you know how our date goes tonight.”

“Ooooh, you got a date tonight? Fuck yeah, lemme know. I'm officially interested.” Laughing, Steve says goodbye and hangs up, resigned to the fact that he’s going to be in traffic for a while.

-

The rest of the way home, Steve tries not to think too much, which is easy because he has to navigate city traffic.  When he gets home, he kicks his shoes off and tends to the cats—food, water, scooping the litter. River keeps on rubbing against his legs like he's been gone for days, not hours. She mews pitifully when he picks her up and sets her outside of the bathroom and he pats her head. He has no idea where Amy is, probably hiding somewhere as usual. 

Steve's phone vibrates and he pulls it out, seeing a Facebook message from Bucky. 

Bucky: _Hey, my friend got me a smart phone so I'm not completely helpless while I'm home. The number is 917-517-6957._

Steve programmes the number into his phone and sends a quick text letting Bucky know who he is. The text bubble pops up almost immediately, so he waits. And waits. And waits. Now he's starting to get nervous. And then his phone vibrates. 

Buck: _I'm so excited for our date tonight that I can't sit still. I haven't been home in so long...would you be opposed to meeting up in like an hour instead? I could come to you, or you could come here whichever is easier. I just want to see you, I want to spend time with you. As much as I possibly can before I go back. I don't know what it is about you, but you make everything easier._

Steve stands in the middle of the room, staring at his phone for a long time. He's touched, and a bit surprised, a bit excited. Things with Bucky are progressing quickly, but they're going well. Steve is ready to go on their date, to hang out with his boyfriend in person. So he texts back. 

Steve: _Of course we can push the time up! We could go to a café or I could show you some cool new places around the city. Or we could just hang out, maybe watch a movie, then get dinner? Whatever you want to do, because this time is for you._

Buck: _This time is for us, Stevie._

Buck: _But what's your address? I'll come over and we'll figure it out from there._

Steve gives it to him, and Bucky says he'll be here in twenty minutes--not without a comment about Steve never leaving Brooklyn. Laughing to himself, Steve goes about cleaning up his place a little bit. He clears his bed and floor of clothes before moving all the sketchbooks and pencils from the couch.

When he finds there's nothing really left to do, he sits on his couch and waits. 

He doesn't wait very long before he gets the text that Bucky is here, and he takes a deep breath before opening the door. And _damn_ , there the brunet is looking amazing. He's wearing a pair of black jeans with a hole in one knee, a black v-neck, and a black canvas jacket. His hair is just on the right side of tousled, and he's shaven. He looks perfect and Steve is incredibly fucked. 

"Hey," he says, stepping aside so Bucky can come in.  Bucky's mouth is hanging open, and he's staring at Steve's apartment. 

"Your place is huge," Bucky murmurs, closing the door behind himself. But then his gaze snaps to Steve and he smiles. "Hey, doll," he whispers, dropping a kiss on Steve's forehead. 

"Come in, make yourself comfortable," Steve tells him, and he does, taking off his shoes and sprawling out on the couch. "We can do take out or we can go out somewhere, whatever you want." Steve lifts Bucky's feet off the couch and sits down, letting his boyfriend's feet drop onto his lap. 

"Take out?" Bucky asks, and Steve goes to grab the menus off the counter. "I just kinda want to chill, I've been on a plane all day, you know." Handing Bucky the menus, Steve perches on the coffee table instead of the couch. "Chinese wins," the brunet declares, and Steve smiles. 

"You didn't look at the rest?" Steve asks teasingly, and Bucky makes a show of going over the other menus while Steve laughs at him. 

"I haven't had Chinese in forever," the brunet murmurs, setting all of the menus down and beckoning Steve into his arms. Being as small as he is, Steve fits right into the space his boyfriend has made for him and snuggles right in. 

"We can call in a minute," Steve decides, needing a moment to gather himself before making a phone call. "Wanna pick a movie?" He sits up and gestures to the bookshelves full of DVD's. Bucky jumps up and immediately starts inspecting Steve's collection. 

"You have everything," the brunet mutters excitedly. "Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Star Trek, Disney, Pixar, Dreamworks . . ." Bucky catches himself gushing and grins sheepishly at Steve, running an embarrassed hand through his hair. "I'm a bit of a movie enthusiast if you can't tell." Walking towards Bucky, Steve smiles back and helps him decide on a movie. 

After ten minutes, they get it narrowed down to _the Dark Knight, Atlantis,_ or _Crazy, Stupid Love._ Steve was surprised when Bucky chose that last one, and the brunet tells him he's a sucker for Emma Stone. 

"I mean, she's gorgeous," Steve agrees as he puts the disk into the DVD player. "And so is Ryan Gosling." He throws Bucky a blanket and curls up next to him with his own, pressing play on the remote. Bucky throws his right arm around Steve's shoulders so that he can cuddle into his side, and Steve rests his head on the brunet's shoulder. Eventually, Bucky pulls Steve over so they can lay down, now with both blankets over them. 

Bucky's chest is warm against Steve's back with his flesh arm behind head, propping it up even though the pillows are there. His metal arm is somewhere, probably resting on his side, but definitely not touching Steve. Steve thinks Bucky may be embarrassed about the prosthetic, or may not want to answer the questions Steve has about it, but that's fine. Steve won't ask any questions, he just wants Bucky to hold him. 

So he reaches back and tugs on Bucky's metal arm until the brunet relents, and Steve pulls it over his waist and tangles his fingers with the warmed metal ones. Bucky's holding his breath, and Steve squeezes his hand. He's not sure if Bucky can feel it, but he does it anyway. 

"You can ask," Bucky says tightly. "I'm sure you have questions." Steve turns over to face him, pulling the blanket up over his shoulders. 

"I do, but you'll tell me when you're ready." Steve looks Bucky in the eye, and chooses his next words carefully. "If you want to talk about it, I'm always ready to listen. But if you'd rather not, that's fine too."

"Eventually," Bucky murmurs, pressing a kiss to Steve's forehead. "I'm not ready yet." And Steve nods, snuggling back in and closing his eyes. It wouldn't hurt anyone if he dozed for the rest of the movie, right?

-

Turns out, he didn't just sleep through the rest of the movie. When he wakes, the sun is going down outside his windows. Steve can feel Bucky still tucked behind him, can hear him snoring softly, so he moves carefully so he can get up and take his meds. They're long overdue, but Steve figures that a couple of hours won't kill him.  

Bucky doesn't stir when Steve sits up, or when he pushes himself off of the couch and stretches. Joints pop softly and his muscles ache from the strange position he's been in for the last three or so hours, but that was the best sleep he's had in a very long time. 

Steve goes about taking his meds and feeding the cats, being as quiet as possible as to not wake his boyfriend.  Realising how hungry he is, he goes ahead and orders Chinese, and grabs his work sketchbook to get some shading done. Sitting in the recliner across from the couch where Bucky is sleeping, Steve opens the book to where he'd left off and gets to it. 

After about five minutes, he finds himself flipping to a blank page. Bucky's so beautiful in his sleep, Steve can't help but draw the lines of his body, the curve of his lips, the shadows under his eyes. The brunet must've really been tired, because he doesn't wake up even when there's a knock at the door. Steve tip-toes to the door and pays the delivery guy, handing him an extra five as a tip. 

Finally, Steve decides he needs to wake Bucky. He puts the takeout on the table and sighs, walking over to where his boyfriend is sleeping soundly on the couch. He shakes the brunet's shoulder gently, and finds himself shoved backward, into the coffee table. Glass goes everywhere—onto the floor, into Steve's arms, legs, and hands. Steve just sits there on the floor in shock, trying to process what just happened. 

"Steve?" Bucky asks, sitting up and pushing the hair out of his face. "Fuck, here," Bucky says, reaching his hand out to help Steve stand up. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened. I was dreaming, having a nightmare I think, are you okay? I can't fucking believe—" He cuts himself off and runs to the bathroom. Steve can see the brunet grabbing a towel and some hydrogen peroxide, and then he's kneeling in front of Steve. 

Bucky's face is unreadable as he picks glass out of Steve's skin, his hands gentle but firm as he applies the peroxide and dabs it up with the towel. There's a lot of blood, but all the wounds are superficial. Steve's not worried about it. 

What he _is_ worried about is Bucky. The brunet is breathing too quickly, and his hands are shaking where they're trying to hold Steve's arm. Steve knew this could happen—PTSD affects a lot of soldiers, especially those who have been in the military as long as Bucky has—but he wasn't prepared for how bad it is. 

"I'm so sorry," Bucky says again, quieter this time. "I'll go, if you want. I can't believe I hurt you. I made you _bleed_." The brunet gets up, like he's going to leave, but Steve catches his hand. 

"I never thought this was going to be easy," Steve murmurs, looking Bucky in the eye. "But I believe it's worth it. That _you're_ worth it." His boyfriend looks like he might cry, but instead he pulls Steve into a gentle hug, mindful of his injuries. His hands are shaking against Steve's back, and Steve hugs him harder, reaching a hand up to thread through his hair. 

"I'm sorry, Steve," Bucky says for the third time, pulling back. "Let me pick up the glass, though." And then Bucky is moving around, sweeping up the glass and moving the broken table out of the way. 

"If you say you're sorry one more time," Steve warns, playful yet serious enough that Bucky gets the message. "You wanna talk about it, the nightmare?" he asks quietly, leading Bucky to sit on the couch. The brunet's brow furrows before his face goes blank and his eyes gloss over. 

"Its about when they tortured me," Bucky says mechanically, and Steve stiffens. "They beat me, cut me, drowned me, and eventually, they hacked off my arm." It's said matter-of-fact, like it doesn't affect Bucky, but Steve feels like he's been hit by a train. 

"Buck—" Steve whispers, leaning forward and taking the brunet's hand. 

"It was the beginning of my first op on Special Forces, and it went wrong. My whole team was tortured same as me, and we were there for two months. Two of them died in the hospital after they got us out, one is paralysed from the neck down, and one died from the torture." Bucky's face is lifeless, like telling Steve this has sucked it out of him. Steve wants to say something, wants to comfort his boyfriend in some way, but he can't. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to help. 

"I'm so sorry, Buck," Steve settles for, playing it safe. "You didn't deserve that, none of you did." Hands shaking, Bucky reaches out to twine his fingers with Steve’s. 

"Sometimes I think that we all would've been better off dying in that prison," the brunet murmurs, holding Steve's gaze. "But then I never would've met you." Bucky's face softens and he squeezes Steve's hand. 

"I can't begin to imagine what you've been through, but if you ever need someone to listen, I'm right here," Steve assures him. He may not know what to say, but he can listen. And sometimes that's enough. 

"Thanks, Stevie," Bucky murmurs. "It helps to talk about it." Throwing a smile at his boyfriend, Steve gets up and brings over the take-out. 

"I got some Chinese while you were asleep," he says. "Help yourself." And they tuck in, finishing every box, all the while chatting about everything and nothing. Steve's phone starts buzzing aggressively from the other side of the room, and finally Bucky gets up and grabs it. 

"You have a lot of texts," Bucky remarks, handing the phone over. It's the group chat, and Bucky's right—they've blown up his phone. 

Nat: _Steve- is your place open for movie night??_

Tony: _His boo is here so Steve will probably not be hosting._

Clint: _steve, you can bring Bucky!_

Sam: _I'd like to meet him_

Tony _: We'd probably scare the shit out of him._

Nat: _Steve, bring Bucky!_

Sam _: He's probably with him now_

Clint: _they're probably fucking right now and that's why he's not answering._

Tony: _Agreed_

Nat: _Let them live, Clinton._

Tony: _Wonder if Steve's a top or a bottom_

Clint: _bottom_

Sam: _Bottom_

Nat: _Bottom_

Nat: _Why are we talking about this??_

Steve's cheeks flush reading the messages, and they only get worse. He knew his friends were crude, but discussing his sex life on the group chat? Well he can't really be mad because they've done the same to everyone else. It's just how their friendship works. 

"You wanna do movie night with my friends?" Steve asks Bucky, looking back up from his phone. "They all want to meet you, and I honestly forgot tonight was movie night." Steve can see Bucky's apprehension, so he gives him a way out. "We don't have to, they wouldn't die if I missed one movie night." But Steve really hopes he decides to come. He wants Bucky to meet his friends, he wants to show his boyfriend off. 

"No, we can do that," the brunet replies. "I'd like to meet your friends." Smiling, Steve glances back at his phone so he can send a text to the group chat. 

Steve: _He's gonna come, please don't scare him._  

"What time is movie night usually?" Bucky asks, picking his own phone up to see the time. 

"Usually seven, but they've pushed it to seven thirty so I can get my apartment presentable," Steve explains as Amy comes running out of Steve's bedroom, and jumps up on the couch. 

"Who are you?" Bucky asks her, holding a hand out so the calico can sniff him. Seeming satisfied, she shoves her head into his hand, demanding to be pet. 

"This is Amy," Steve says. "River is probably hiding under the bed. She doesn't really like people." Bucky nods, and they get up. Steve starts moving things, getting his stuff out of the way so people have room to sit around his TV. "Would you mind getting in that cabinet and grabbing the wine?" Steve asks, pointing to the cabinet. 

"Just the wine?" Bucky asks, doing as Steve says. There's a lot of alcohol in that cabinet. 

"There's beer in the fridge, and I'm sure Nat's bringing vodka. The wine's for me." Bucky brings it over, setting it on the counter and helping Steve move things out of the way. 

Except he picks up Steve's sketchbook—still open to the page with Bucky's portrait on it. Steve's cheeks flush, and a shiver goes down his spine because Bucky looks up at him with fire in his eyes. 

"You just did this?" Bucky asks, looking back down. There's a smile quirking the corner of his lips, and his brows are pulled together. "You make me look . . . beautiful." He closes the book carefully and hands it to Steve, and Steve leaves the room to put it away. 

There are a million thoughts racing through his mind--he thought it would be longer before he drew Bucky, much less have Bucky _see_ it--and with trembling hands he re-enters the living room. Bucky is sitting on the couch, fingers flying over his phone. He's unloading on someone, Steve just doesn't know who. But it doesn't matter, because as soon as the brunet sees Steve he puts his phone down, opening his arms in an invitation for Steve to curl up there. 

"Are your friends really loud?" Bucky asks suddenly, and Steve turns to face him. 

"You have no idea," Steve mutters, and Bucky looks down at him, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

"Loud noises freak me out since I've been back," the brunet murmurs, and Steve knows he doesn't mean since he's been back in the US. "Screaming and yelling, especially." And Steve wants Bucky to be comfortable here, so he shoots a text to the group chat. 

Steve: R _emember, guys, he's a soldier and he's been through hell and back. Be courteous, and keep the volume down._

Nat: _PTSD?_

Steve: _Yeah._

Sam: _Clint, we're looking at you, Mr. I-Have-No-Inside-Voice_. 

Clint: _fuck you sam_

Tony: _We_   _got you, Steve._

"Taken care of," Steve whispers, cuddling back into his spot. "They won't be a problem." Steve feels Bucky nod, and they sit like that for a long time, enjoying the company and the warmth of each other. Steve is excited for his friends to meet Bucky, but he's worried Bucky won't like them—or that his friends won't like Bucky. They're over dramatic and loud, sassy and sarcastic and they're kind of assholes. But Bucky can be just as sarcastic, just as sassy as Clint, and that's saying something. 

But now it's the moment of truth because the buzzer rings, making Steve jump before he gets up to let them in. Here goes nothing. 

-

It actually goes smoothly, to Steve's surprise. At this point, nobody is watching the movie, but that's usually how it goes anyway. Bucky gets along great with his friends, and Natasha is good at watching his face so she knows when to kick Clint under the blanket for being too loud. Sam invites Bucky down to the VA, and they get to talking about that and exchange numbers while Steve fucks with Tony by throwing popcorn in his hair.  

"Could you not?" Tony finally snaps, turning to glare at Steve. Natasha and Clint giggle, and Steve smiles. 

"Probably shouldn't antagonise him," Bucky whispers in his ear, but Steve can feel the brunet's lips curling into a smile where they're pressed to his neck. 

"Yeah, sorry," Steve says, and waits for Tony to turn back around before leaning forward and throwing another kernel. Sam rolls his eyes at Steve, but he's smiling. 

"I swear to god, Steve," Tony threatens, and Steve backs off, putting his hands up in surrender. "Thank you," the brunet mutters, settling back down. Bucky laughs softly, and Steve finds himself pulled back to Bucky's chest, the blanket wrapped back around his shoulders. 

"You're cold," Bucky explains when Steve huffs and gets comfortable again. 

"Steve is always cold," Clint pipes up. "Wait until he presses his ice-fucking-cold feet to your back in the middle of the night." Not being able to see Bucky's face when Clint says that makes Steve uneasy, and Clint knows he's fucked up. He goes to add something else, but Natasha jabs him in the side with her straw to shut him up. Her movement disturbs River, who's been sitting on Nat's lap for the whole movie, and she darts into Steve's room. 

The credits are rolling, and Natasha starts picking things up and taking them to the trash. Sam and Clint get up to help, and Tony excuses himself to the bathroom. Steve moves so that he can get a look at his boyfriends face, but its expressionless. 

"Go ahead and ask," Steve murmurs, the tense silence making him uneasy. Bucky seems to snap out of whatever thoughts he was caught up in and his eyes zero in on the apprehensive look on Steve's face. 

"I'm more curious than anything, honestly," the brunet points out, and Steve gives him a small smile. "Have you ever slept with Clint?" Taking a deep breath, Steve takes Bucky's hands in his. 

"I did, more than once," he admits, looking down at their entwined hands. "But it was a long time ago, and he loves Natasha and I—" Steve stops himself before he says it, but barely. "And I'm with you and I wouldn't have it any other way." Bucky's lips are still pressed into a thin line, but he doesn't look angry. Steve supposes he should have told Bucky about his past relationship with Clint, but he doesn't think about Clint that way anymore, and it didn't occur to him. 

"Steve, I think we're gonna head out," Sam calls, and Steve stands to say goodbye, Bucky coming to join him after a moment. Natasha hugs Steve quickly, but squeezes extra tight and murmurs _sorry_ in his ear. Clint shoots Steve an apologetic look, and they make their way out of the door. There's a chorus of _nice to meet you_ from Steve's friends, and Bucky returns the sentiment before closing the door behind them. 

"Buck—" Steve starts, but Bucky holds his hand up, taking a step toward Steve. 

"It doesn't matter," Bucky murmurs. "I don't care that you've slept with him, I just would've liked a warning." 

"I'm sorry," Steve says. "I should've told you, but it's been so long and it didn't seem relevant to me." Smiling easily, Bucky wraps an arm around Steve's waist.  

"It's not my business who you've slept with, or how many times, or whatever." Bucky kisses him then, and Steve can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of belonging. They haven't known each other long, but Steve already knows he's in love with Bucky Barnes. There's no doubt in his mind. 

-

Two weeks go by, and Steve is loving having Bucky home. They've spent almost every day together—walking around the city, visiting museums, going to see movies. Steve feels safe with Bucky, like it's okay to be himself. He hasn't felt that way with any of his other boyfriends. Maybe its time Steve asks Bucky to stay the night, but he doesn't want to move too fast. Bucky seems comfortable with Steve, but he doesn't talk about his feelings much. 

Deciding to bring it up over dinner tonight, Steve goes about cleaning up his apartment just in case. He makes sure he has everything they need in the nightstand—condoms, lube, towels, etc—and moves his lockbox from the top drawer into the closet. He's told Bucky about his habit and explained that the only reason he started smoking weed was to help with chronic back pain, but Bucky hadn't given an opinion on it either way. He doesn't want to make Bucky uncomfortable.

Once his apartment is clean, he jumps in the shower and quickly rinses off and washes his hair. He's got about a half hour to get ready. Today had been one of the few days Steve hadn't worked from home--Peter had needed him in the office for a meeting that had gone late--and so he hasn't seen Bucky today. They'd texted about dinner plans and decided to do pizza and a movie at Steve's place. 

Once he's ordered the pizza online, he texts Bucky to come over whenever he's ready, and lays out on the couch. 

Buck: _I'll be there soon, love. Gotta get an uber._

Steve's chest flutters at the endearment, and he sighs. Maybe he's thinking about this too hard. Bucky seems to be just as ready to take their relationship to the next level as Steve is. Bucky has told him multiple times to just ask instead of stressing over things, and Bucky will need a change of clothes if he stays . . . 

Steve: _I didn't really want to do this over text, but since you're about to leave I figured I should. Did you want to stay over tonight?_

He waits for a moment, and then another, and then the text bubble pops up. 

Buck: _Of course, Stevie. I don't think I could say no to sleeping next to you._

Relieved, Steve sends back the heart emoji and sets his phone down. He's glad he and Bucky are on the same page, and he has to admit that the times they've napped together has been some of the best sleep he's ever gotten so a full night of that will be great. 

Trying hard not to think about it, Steve takes a deep breath to relax. He knows that if he dwells on what could happen, he'll drive himself into a panic attack. After realising that sitting in silence with nothing to distract his brain wasn't working, he boots up his PS4 and brings up whatever game is already in the console. 

He plays Overwatch until his phone buzzes—Bucky's unique ringer—and Steve gets up to open the door. Bucky's leaning against the doorframe and Steve doesn't see any kind of overnight bag, but the brunet does have a backpack, so Steve figures that's where his stuff is. Either way, he's assuming Bucky came prepared with clothes and a toothbrush at least. Steve's clothes sure as hell won't fit him. 

"Come in," Steve invites, stepping aside. Bucky remains silent, so Steve turns and leads him into the apartment. "I'll probably end up getting you a code for the door," he continues, trying to fill the silence. 

"That would be cool," Bucky murmurs, setting his bag down on the couch. Steve feels like something is off with his boyfriend, but he doesn't know what it is. 

"Is everything okay?" Steve asks quietly, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist and gazing up at him. The brunet blinks down at him for a moment before dropping a kiss on his forehead.  

"I've just got a lot on my mind," Bucky replies, and Steve rests his cheek on Bucky's chest. 

"You can talk about it if you want," he murmurs, trying to give the brunet an outlet. He doesn't want to force Bucky into anything, but Sam says the best thing Steve can do for a soldier with PTSD is to listen. 

"I really don't think you want to know half the shit that goes on in my head," Bucky says bitterly, pulling away. He walks over to the couch and sits, running both hands through his hair. Sitting next to him and placing a hand on his knee, Steve tries to give the brunet space while also giving some sort of comfort. 

"I want to know everything about you, no matter how bad it is," Steve assures him. "Nothing you say will scare me off, and nothing you say will change the way I feel about you." Steve's hoping this convinces Bucky he can talk about things with Steve. Bucky looks over at Steve, and turns so they're facing each other on the couch. He's about to talk, Steve knows it. 

But the buzzer rings. 

They both jump, and Steve almost falls off the couch. Bucky's face has gone expressionless, and Steve is pretty sure that means he's not getting Bucky to talk tonight. And that's okay, he'll talk when he's ready. 

"It's just the pizza man," Steve murmurs, laughing at himself as he gets up. By the time he gets back, Bucky looks relaxed again. They put on a movie and eat pizza, cuddling when they're finished eating. They haven't spoken much--they don't have to. It's honestly nice to be around someone without having to fill the silence all the time. They can just exist together, laugh together, _be_ together. 

Steve excuses himself to the bathroom, and pulls out his phone. He's had his group chat on do not disturb and he has so many messages to scroll through. Most of it's nonsense—memes, random things that happened through the day, but there's one message on his phone that he's interested in. 

Nat: _So he's staying over tonight?_

Steve has never understood how Natasha knows everything, but she does. 

Steve: _Yeah, I'm kind of nervous. I don't know what's expected here._

After texting her back, he actually uses the bathroom and takes his meds. When he goes back out into his bedroom, Bucky has moved his things to the floor by the wall and is sprawled out over the bed. 

"You made yourself comfortable," Steve comments, smiling. Bucky grins over at him, patting the space beside him. Steve slides in next to him on top of the covers and nuzzles his face into his boyfriend's chest. 

"Your bed feels amazing," Bucky murmurs, pushing his nose into Steve's hair and breathing deeply. 

"It's customised for my scoliosis," Steve explains. "Not too hard, not too soft." 

"My mattress at home is too soft," Bucky says, rolling so he can face Steve. "I find myself sleeping on the floor more often than not. Can't really afford one of those fancy Sleep Number beds." That makes Steve incredibly sad, that Bucky has risked his life for this country and can't afford a mattress he can get a good night's sleep on. 

"Well you're welcome to mine anytime," Steve replies, kissing Bucky's nose. They lay like that for a long moment before Bucky sits up. 

"You mind if I shower?" he asks, and Steve shakes his head, pointing over to the bathroom. Kissing him one last time, Bucky collects his backpack and makes his way into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. Steve lays on the bed for a minute more, taking some deep breaths. Absentmindedly, he pulls his phone out and scrolls through messages. 

Nat: _Bucky doesn't seem the type to just expect sex._

Steve has to admit she's right. Maybe he's been stressed over nothing. He hears shuffling in the bathroom and looks up, catching a glimpse of Bucky completely nude through the crack in the door. And holy shit is he beautiful. 

Steve: _It's not like I don't want sex, cause holy shit I do, but idk if that's something he wants, you know? And it's been so long for me I don't know if I'm any good at it._

While he's waiting for a response, he changes into some sleep pants, leaving his chest bare. His phone buzzes from the other side of the bed, and Steve dives for it. 

Nat: _I mean, you can ask. You guys seem to be able to talk about anything. As for being good enough, sex is like riding a bike. But with a dick instead._

Steve: _Except for his PTSD, yeah we talk about everything. And Jesus, Nat, why you gotta go there lol_

Nat: _He still hasn't told you anything? And you know me, can't help myself._

Steve: _He's told me some, but not a lot. He dropped off the face of the earth for two months while we were still writing each other, and when he finally did write back he said something bad had happened, and then never told me what that was. I wouldn't mind so much if I couldn't tell it's hurting him. Sam says he needs to talk about it, but every time he's about to start talking, something interrupts us._

Steve watches as the typing bubble pops up and disappears several times until finally, Steve gets a response. 

Nat: _Remember, Steve, it's not about you here. This is about what Bucky needs, and I know you're curious and you want to help but make sure you don't push him trying to get your answers._

Steve doesn't respond but he knows she's right. He's being selfish. He needs to support Bucky, no matter what—even if he doesn't ever want to talk about what happened. 

The shower shuts off and Steve continues to play on his phone, checking his email and multiple social media outlets until Bucky comes out of the bathroom. He's got a long-sleeved black shirt on and sweatpants, hair damp and curling around his forehead. There's no glove on his left hand, so Steve can see the metal shining in the dim light. It looks good on him, honestly. 

"You're cute," Steve informs him, and Bucky smiles shyly. 

"I think _you're_ cute," he replies, crawling into the bed. Steve puts his phone on charge and takes his glasses off, settling down under the covers. "You remember last month, when I told you in my letter that something bad had happened?" Bucky asks suddenly, blue eyes boring into Steve's. Steve nods slowly, thrown off guard by the question. He hadn't forgotten about it, but he hadn't thought they'd have this conversation any time soon. 

"Yeah, I remember," Steve murmurs. 

"I got a call from home, and there was someone I didn't know on the line," Bucky starts, and Steve's watching his face slowly go blank as he tells his story. "The man—I can't remember what he said his name was—he said he's my sister's husband, and that Becca had been in a car accident." His voice cracks, and he pauses for a minute, composing himself. 

"Buck, we can stop if you need to," Steve whispers, cupping his boyfriends cheek with his hand. Bucky looks down at him, blue-grey eyes shining in the light from the bedside lamp. 

"He told me she was dead," he says flatly, looking away. Steve's stomach drops and he pulls Bucky in closer, trying to comfort him as much as possible. "It was a drunk driver that hit her," he continues in the same emotionless voice, "Driving on the wrong side of the road. He said she died instantly, didn't feel any pain." Bucky's quiet for a moment, and Steve doesn't know what to say. 

"I'm so sorry," he murmurs, running his fingers through his boyfriends hair. Bucky's head drops down onto Steve's shoulder, and Steve kisses his hair. 

"I didn't get to go to her funeral," Bucky says quietly. "I'm telling you this because I'm hoping you'll come to the cemetery with me." And yes, of course Steve will go with him, and he tells the brunet this. But Steve's still stuck on the fact that Bucky's only remaining family is dead. 

"I don't want you to have to go alone," Steve murmurs. "Maybe someday you can visit my Mom with me." The brunet seems comforted by that, leaning in to kiss Steve softly. 

"I'm not used to . . . having someone I can talk to," Bucky admits. "And a lot of what I _want_ to tell you is confidential." And while Steve understands that, he knows it's frustrating for Bucky. 

"Have you thought about maybe seeing a therapist?" Steve asks gently. Bucky's face screws up, and Steve knows this is a touchy subject for him. "I was just thinking, since there are confidentiality laws, you'd be able to talk more openly than you can with me." Because while Steve would love for Bucky to tell him his whole life story including his time in the military, he knows that's not realistic. Therapy may not be something Bucky _wants_ to do, but it would help. Everyone needs a little therapy. 

"The military would have me sign a waiver that what we say in sessions can be used against us," Bucky explains. "I've tried that before. If I were to talk about my time in that prison, where I'm sure I broke military law at some point, my therapist is allowed to tell my supervisors and I can be punished for it." This is unbelievable. The United States throws these men and women into combat, and then when they come back they can't talk to someone without fear of being prosecuted for their actions while in wartime?

"So who are you supposed to talk to?" Steve asks, defeated. Bucky gives a disinterested shrug—as much as he can while laying on his side—and Steve huffs. "We'll figure something else out. I'm not gonna let your mental health suffer because the military is full of jackasses." Steve catches Bucky smiling, and he grins right back. 

Bucky kisses him then, sweet and slow and everything Steve could ever ask for. Rough hands cup either side of his face as Bucky deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into Steve's mouth. Sighing happily into it, Steve kisses back, moving to straddle Bucky's hips. It's easier this way, for Steve to delve him tongue into the brunet's mouth and bit his lip as he pulls back. Easier to run his fingers through short brown hair, tugging it lightly so Bucky leans his head back. 

Kissing a trail down Bucky's neck, Steve rucks Bucky's shirt up and looks at his boyfriend for permission before pulling it off. Carefully, slowly, Steve runs his hand across Bucky's left shoulder, tracing the scars there.  

"It's ugly, I know," Bucky murmurs, not meeting Steve's eyes. It breaks Steve's heart, that Bucky thinks any part of him is anything less than beautiful. So Steve kisses over the scars, over the junction where metal meets flesh, and reaches down to wrap Bucky's metal arm securely around his waist. 

"I think it's beautiful," Steve whispers, kissing Bucky's lips again. "I think everything about you is beautiful." The brunet blushes furiously and pulls Steve so that he's lying flat on top of him, knees on either side of Bucky's hips, and kisses him deeply. Bucky's chest is hot against Steve's, heart beating almost as rapidly as Steve's own. The brunet pulls away and blinks up at him slowly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

"I think I love you," Bucky breathes, hand coming to cup Steve's face. His eyes are silver in the dim lamplight, and there's a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Steve is frozen for a moment, caught up in the gravity of what Bucky just said. His last relationship with Brock had been awful, with Brock going as far as to hit Steve once, and then vowing to never do it again and promising Steve he loved him. He’d come away with a black eye, and of course his friends had asked questions, but it wasn’t hard for Steve to pass it off like he’d been in a fight. 

Not long after, it had happened again and Steve hadn’t been able to lie about it because he landed in the hospital with broken ribs. Natasha was listed as his emergency contact and when the doctors told her Steve wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened, she charged into the room and levelled Steve a hard glare. Steve’d come clean then and Natasha, along with the rest of Steve’s friends, had convinced Steve to break it off with Brock. 

It’s taken Steve a long time to realise what love actually is, and what he has with Bucky is it. Leaning back down, Steve kisses his boyfriend thoroughly until they're both breathless, unable to contain his smile when they finally break apart. 

"I love you, too," he whispers against Bucky's lips and the brunet flashes him a smile. Bucky pulls him in for another deep kiss, and Steve lets out a small moan when Bucky lifts his hips to grind into Steve's. Throwing caution to the wind, Steve dives all-in, confident that Bucky loves him and that he’s not just in it for sex. Bucky loves him, and this is real. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back!!! This is really short--I've been having massive writer's block with this story. That being said, enjoy it. :)

After that night, the two can’t keep their hands off of each other. Bucky’s been staying at Steve’s apartment since that night, neither one of them ready to give up sleeping together. It’s Christmas Eve, only a week until Bucky leaves, and Natasha is throwing a Christmas party. Steve is running around his apartment trying to find something to wear while Bucky fixes his hair in the bathroom for the hundredth time. As Steve passes the bathroom, he catches a glimpse of Bucky leaning on the counter with his head bowed, and stops to take in the view. 

He doesn’t have a shirt on yet, and Steve can see the muscles in his back, his shoulders. His pants are hanging low on his waist, so Steve can see just the hem of his underwear and a peek of a hipbone. It makes Steve’s mouth water just looking at his boyfriend. 

“We gonna get ready or are you just gonna stare at me all night?” Bucky asks teasingly, and Steve hadn’t even realised Bucky had looked up from what he was doing. Caught red-handed, Steve blushes and wraps his arms around the brunet.  

“You’re just too hot to handle,” he drawls, eliciting a laugh from his boyfriend. “What can I say?”

“You sure handled me well enough last night,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve lets out a surprised laugh. 

“Well not to brag, but I’m pretty talented in that area,” Steve shoots back, and Bucky grins. 

“Brag all you want, babe. You’ve got me convinced.” Blushing, Steve pulls away and continues to get ready, finally settling on black form-fitting jeans and a dark blue button-down. Bucky walks into the bedroom as he’s tucking in his shirt, and Steve can’t help but stare as strips down to change.

And it hits Steve that this is so domestic—him and Bucky changing in front of each other and basically sharing an apartment. It makes Steve want to keep Bucky here, to keep him from re-enlisting when his time is up. He wants to ask his boyfriend to move in with him, but it still seems too soon.  

Steve’s phone buzzes, pulling him out of his thoughts, and he pulls it out of his pocket. Nat has texted the group chat. Other messages filter in as he opens his phone.  

Nat:  _If you’re late you have to help clean up._

Nat _: And if you forgot to buy a present for your secret Santa don’t bother showing up._  

Clint:  _neat! i live here and i made my SS gift_  

Tony:  _Not fair! Favoritism! And I didn’t know what to get for mine so I winged it._

Nat:  _Perks of dating me._

Sam:  _Y’all childish_.  _Just buy a gift card._

Steve: _Gift cards are lame, Sam._

“Nat says if we’re late we have to clean up,” Steve tells Bucky, as the older man pulls on his jeans. Bucky huffs a laugh, tucking his shirt in and grabbing his jacket and his secret Santa gift for Clint. It’s a new bowl—purple and black glass swirled together in the shape of an elephant. Steve’s hoping they’ll get to try it out tonight, but it looks really cool and it wasn’t too expensive. Steve doesn’t see Bucky with a gift but knows he has one hidden away somewhere. 

“Guess we better leave then, yeah?” the brunet asks, and Steve nods, grabbing his jacket and his keys. 

“I’m sorry to say your hair is going to get messed up again,” Steve says on the way out, offering Bucky his spare helmet. The older man takes it and turns it over in his hands.  

“You have a bike?” Bucky asks, eyes widening.

“A Harley,” Steve replies, a wicked smile on his face. Bucky’s brow furrows as he follows Steve outside to where the bike is parked in the garage attached to his apartment. 

“Wait, you picked me up from the airport in a car?” Bucky accuses, and Steve can’t help but laugh. 

“Natasha let me borrow hers so I would actually be able to pick you up and surprise you,” Steve explains, getting on the bike. Looking back at Bucky, he flashes a smile. 

“I’m glad you did,” Bucky says, getting on behind Steve and wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. 

“Don’t lean too hard,” Steve advises. “Just keep your weight centred and we’ll be fine.” He feels Bucky shift behind him, sitting up straight. 

“I trust you,” the brunet whispers in Steve’s ear, and Steve starts the engine. They navigate slowly through the city, Bucky’s thighs hugging Steve’s hips, his chest pressed to Steve’s back. The roads are wet but not icy, and the snow has stopped for now. It’s cold, but a nice dry cold, and Bucky acts as a heater at Steve’s back. The soldier’s grip around Steve’s waist loosens as time passes, as he gets used to the way the Harley moves. 

They pass a rowdy bar about a block away from Nat’s place, and Steve has to weave through drunk people crossing the street. They’re laughing and stumbling into one another, off to the next bar. The snow starts to fall as Steve pulls into a parking spot in front of Natasha’s building, and they rush inside, pulling off their helmets as they go. Steve watches as Bucky fiddles with his hair up the two flights of stairs, and can't help the soft smile that spreads across his face. 

“It looks good, Buck,” Steve says finally, grabbing Bucky’s hand and twining their fingers together. “You look amazing.” The brunet blushes and drops a kiss on the top of Steve’s head as they come to a stop at Nat’s door. Bucky’s about to knock when Sam opens the door. 

“I could hear your loud-ass Harley a block away,” Sam exclaims, pulling the door wide open. There’s a drink in his other hand, and Steve can see Clint and Natasha just inside. Steve moves into the apartment, hand still clasped with Bucky’s. Natasha strides over to them looking beautiful as ever in a black backless dress. Her hair is pulled over to the side, showing off the spider tattoo on her right shoulder.

“You’re late,” she says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“I had two minutes,” he says. “It’s only just seven.” Giving him a once over, she huffs and pulls him in for a hug.

“I’m glad you could make it,” she murmurs. Pulling away, she turns to Bucky and smiles at him. “You too, Bucky. Come in, make yourselves comfortable.” Natasha leads the group further into the apartment and into the living room where Steve piles his jacket and his helmet on the recliner, motioning to Bucky to do the same.

“Tony’s making drinks in the kitchen,” Sam pipes up, and Steve grins. “Do you drink?” he asks Bucky, and Steve perks up because he doesn’t know the answer to that.

“Depends on what he’s making,” Bucky replies dryly, and Sam’s drink shakes and sloshes as he laughs. 

“Guess you’ll have to try it and find out.” Shrugging, Bucky lets Sam lead him off to the kitchen, laving Steve in the living room with Clint and Natasha.

“Fifteen minutes to get your drinks and settle before we’re trading gifts!” Natasha calls, and then pulls a wrapped bundle from the bag over her shoulder.

“Roof?” Clint asks, looking over at Steve, and he grins.

“I’ll meet you guys up there,” he tells them, and goes to let Bucky know where he’s disappearing to. He’s sitting at the bar in the kitchen with his chin dropped down in the palm of his hand, elbow resting against the counter watching Tony toss bottles around and mix too many alcohols together. “We’re going up to the roof, you guys can come if you can still walk after that,” Steve tells them, and Sam shoots Steve a quizzical glance. Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand as he leaves, and Steve makes his way out onto the fire escape and up to the roof.

“About time!” Natasha calls, and Steve wades through the powdery snow towards his friends.

“Come take a hit off of this and chill out,” Clint says, passing Steve the blunt. It’s chilly, but there’s an awning that they’re standing under keeping the snow off of them. 

“How was your sleepover?” Natasha asks, taking the blunt from Steve. 

“We didn’t do much sleeping,” Steve replies innocently, flashing a smile at the redhead. 

“Was it good?” Clint asks, leaning closer to Steve. “Was it mind blowing? How many times did you get off?” Rolling his eyes, Steve takes the blunt of out Clint’s fingers and hits off of it, passing it to Natasha as quickly as he’d taken it. It doesn’t take a lot to get Steve high, seeing as he has such a high metabolism. 

“It was amazing, and that’s all you need to know,” Steve says, shutting down Clint’s train of thought. “He told me he loves me.” Natasha throws an arm over Steve’s shoulders and presses a kiss to his temple. 

“I’m so happy for you,” she tells him, and Clint repeats the sentiment. “What now? When does he leave?” The blunt’s almost gone now and Steve’s not nearly high enough to talk about Bucky leaving. It hurts just to think about. 

“He leaves Saturday,” is the answer Steve decides on. Clint and Natasha don’t push it, and Steve is grateful. They put the blunt out and Clint stashes the roach in a pocket, Natasha leading the way back inside. It’s quite chilly now, and Steve is glad when they’re finally back in the apartment. There’s rap music playing, and someone must’ve let Sam have the aux cord because the only other people who listen to rap were on the roof. 

“Gift time!” Natasha calls to the men still in the kitchen, and Steve grabs Clint’s gift out of his jacket before making his way to the sitting area. Clint has arranged furniture into something resembling a circle with two isles to walk through, and Steve gravitates to his place on the couch where he always sits—the corner nearest to the Christmas tree they have set up. The couch seems to swallow Steve when he sits down, but that may be the haze of the weed settling over him. 

Bucky takes the place beside him, throwing an arm around his shoulders and coaxing Steve to lean on him. Bucky’s so warm that Steve can’t help but slide an icy hand under his boyfriend’s shirt and press it to his stomach. The muscles there clinch automatically and Bucky hisses in surprise. 

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky mutters. “Wear gloves next time.” Grinning, Steve removes his hand and Bucky takes it in his own. The brunet has his wrapped gift wedged between them, and it’s obviously a bottle of alcohol of some sort but it was nice of him to try to hide it. 

“Sam, you go first,” Natasha instructs, and Sam groans. 

“We know what it is anyway,” Tony mutters from beside Clint, on the other side of the Christmas tree, and Sam scoffs. 

“I only wanted you to  _think_  I got a gift card,” Sam defends himself, pulling a bag from behind his chair. It’s a medium-sized black gift bag with white tissue paper sticking out of the top. 

“Sam’s right,” Steve says. “That’s way too big of a bag for a gift card.” Steve suppressed his laughter, but Clint isn’t so lucky—spewing a bit of coffee on his pants. 

“Watch it be a gift card with a bunch of tissue paper on it,” Tony suggests, and Bucky chuckles softly at Steve’s side. 

“Well Steve, for your sake, I hope you’re right,” Sam huffs, handing over the bag. Steve’s genuinely excited now, because Sam has known him the longest and would have the best idea of what to get him. If it really is a gift card, Steve is going to be mildly annoyed depending on where it’s for. 

Tearing the tissue paper away, Steve reaches down into the bag and pulls out a brightly-wrapped box. Steve hears giggling from his left, and can feel Bucky’s breath ghosting against his neck as he unwraps the box and opens it. 

It’s a pair of over-the-head headphones. Upon closer inspection, Steve realised it’s a headset. He looks up at Sam, grinning, and closes the lid to the box. 

“You said you just recently broke yours,” Sam explains. And Steve had texted the group chat a couple days ago freaking out about his old mic finally breaking. 

“Thank you, Sam,” Steve murmurs, smiling over at his friend. 

“Thank me by kicking ass with me in Overwatch,” Sam replies nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch. 

“What’s Overwatch?” Bucky asks in Steve’s ear. 

“It’s a first person shooter game,” Steve replies quietly. “I can show you when we get home.” 

“I’ve never been big into video games,” the brunet says. 

“If any game can convert you, it’s Overwatch,” Sam says from Bucky’s other side. 

“Enough about that game that takes up all of our free time,” Natasha declares. “Bucky, you’re up next.” Grabbing the gift from between them, Bucky stands and hands it over to Natasha. 

“I hope you like it,” he says, sitting back down, and Natasha tears the paper away. 

“Whoa,” Clint says, leaning over Nat’s shoulder to get a look at the bottle. 

“We said thirty dollars max,” she accuses, but Steve can see in her face that she’s happy with it. 

“What is it?” Tony asks. “I can’t see!” 

“Imperia vodka,” Natasha says. “There’s no way this was under thirty dollars.” The brunet just shrugs, and sits up straighter. 

“I got it about two months ago when my team was in Russia,” Bucky says sheepishly. Steve hadn’t known Bucky’d been in Russia recently. “Won it in a game of poker so don’t feel bad.” The brunet seems to shrug it off, and Steve sees Natasha trying to read his face. Steve has no idea how Bucky knew that Natasha is Russian, or if he even really does know—it could’ve been coincidence—but he can tell Natasha wants to know. She won't ask, though, at least not now because the group has moved on to Steve, who stands and hands his wrapped bundle to Clint. 

“Be careful,” he warns as he sits back down. “It’s breakable.” Steve feels Bucky’s fingers twine with his as Clint rips the paper away grumbling  _how much tape did you use, goddamnit_. But as soon as he gets it open, he’s immediately fawning over it and begging to try it out after all the gifts have been exchanged. Soothing his friend with promises to break it in later tonight, Steve indicates for Tony to share his gift. 

“I didn’t get the chance to wrap it,” Tony says as he reaches behind him and pulls out a box. “I got it shipped from a buddy of mine in Florida and it just got in this morning.” Tony stands and walks toward Sam, but instead hands the box to Bucky. “I waited in line for two hours for this, you better love it.” Taking the box with his metal hand, Bucky chuckles a bit at Tony’s comment. Steve is thrilled to see Bucky using his prosthetic in front of his friends—he usually has a glove of some sort covering it. 

“I’m sure I’ll love it seeing as you guys didn’t have to include me,” Bucky murmurs as he rips at the packing tape. 

“Of course we’re going to include Steve’s super hot boyfriend,” Clint says, and Natasha punches him. 

“Anyone who makes Steve happy is welcome here, is what he means to say,” Natasha clarifies, glaring at Clint. Bucky has the box open now, and Steve lays his head on his boyfriend shoulder as a hoodie is revealed in the box. Bucky pulls it out to inspect it, and his face lights up when he sees the logo. 

“You got me a NASA hoodie,” he says, almost in disbelief. Steve is surprised with Tony, there’s no way he could’ve know how obsessed Bucky is with space. “From the Kennedy centre? That’s the one in Florida.” Bucky’s looking over at Tony in awe, and Steve squeezes his shoulders. 

“I spent a long time on your Facebook, I found your Tumblr, and with some digging found your other tumblr dedicated to space and NASA.” Tony shrugs, like this isn’t something nice he’s done, and Bucky just stares. “I have a telescope at the tower, if you’d like to come check it out,” Tony continues nonchalantly. “When you get back, of course.” Knowing this is a big step for Tony—the man who doesn’t make friends easily because he cares too much or people just want him around for his money—Steve nudges his boyfriend a bit to shake him out of wherever his head is. 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Bucky replies, and he folds the box back down and sets it gingerly by his feet. The brunet immediately reaches for Steve’s as soon as his hands are empty, and Steve snuggles happily into his boyfriend’s side. Natasha is now urging Clint to share his gift, and Clint stumbles over to the tree. He comes back with a large wrapped box and plops it in Tony’s lap. 

“Goddamn,” Tony mumbles. “What is this, a box of bricks?” But he’s already ripping at the paper, and Steve finds himself focusing on Bucky’s hands more than the party. Steve still holds one tightly in his own, but Bucky’s other hand has found a place on Steve’s thigh, and when the brunet catches him staring, he squeezes a bit and smiles softly. 

By the time Steve looks back up, Tony has unwrapped the box and opened it, and is pulling out multiple photo frames. The brunet glances over at Clint, emotion filling his eyes as he takes in the pictures in the frames. Tony’s not one to get emotional over these types of things, but Steve can see the brunet’s touched by the gift. 

“Natasha!” Steve says excitedly. “It’s your turn.” And Steve is excited because he knows what she got for Sam. The redhead pulls out a thin, precisely wrapped rectangular gift and hands it over to Sam. 

“Well it’s a game,” Sam says, turning it over in his hands. 

“Well, open it,” Steve encourages, ready to see the look on his friend’s face. Sam looks over at Steve suspiciously and Bucky chuckles softly.

“You know what it is,” Sam accuses, and Steve laughs.

“Of course I know what it is, I suggested it.” Steve laughs when Natasha turns a glare on him.

“Hey, no helping!” Tony complains. “No one was supposed to know anyone else’s gift.”

“Who said?” Steve replies, still laughing at Sam’s face. He still hasn’t opened the gift yet, too caught up in the conversation.

“I don’t remember any rules but the thirty dollar limit,” Steve says, defending himself amidst the chaos of voices. “And Sam already broke that one. I know that headset was at least fifty.” 

“You’re worth it,” Sam says softly, and Steve beams at his best friend. Bucky’s hold on Steve tightens, and Steve can’t tell if the action is possessive or just reflexive. 

“Open the damn gift,” Clint calls, and Sam rips the paper away. 

“The hell is this?” Sam asks, peering at the packaging. “Persona 5? Never heard of it.” 

“Steve actually got me into it,” Natasha says. “It’s hard to explain; you just have to play it.”

“Plus it’s got an amazing soundtrack,” Steve adds. They chat a bit longer, everyone saying their thank-you’s again, and then Clint is corralling everyone to the roof. Sam and Bucky stay inside, Sam babbling about showing Bucky Overwatch while everyone else “makes bad choices.” Steve blows a kiss to his boyfriend and climbs out onto the fire escape after Tony, who had decided to join them for once. 

“I got it,” Tony says as Natasha pulls out her weed, placing his hand on top of hers and pulling out a bag of his own. 

“Thanks Tony,” Natasha says gratefully, and tucks her bag back in her coat pocket. Steve huddled closer to Tony as he packs the deep bowl and catches a whiff of citrus coming from the weed. 

“Where did you get this shit?” Steve asks, and Tony hands the bowl back to Clint. 

“California,” Tony replies, grinning. Steve knows he’s in for it, and decides to only take one hit. He does have to drive, after all. “When does your soldier leave?” Tony asks Steve, and Steve’s heart catches. 

“Saturday,” Steve murmurs, taking his hit and passing the bowl to Tony. As soon as he inhales, he has the urge to cough, but holds his resolve and exhales first. “Holy shit,” he chokes out between coughs. 

“I know,” Clint says gleefully. “I think I’m good just from one.” The bowl is with Natasha now, and she raises one perfect eyebrow at Clint before taking her hit. Steve is with Clint on this, satisfied with just one hit. So when Tony hands it to him, he declines. 

“I have to drive back,” Steve says. “I’m honestly exhausted.” Tony shrugs and passes the bowl back to Natasha. 

“And you want to spend as much time with Bucky as possible,” Natasha says, reading Steve's face. And she’s right—Steve is itching to take Bucky home. Natasha hands the bowl back to Clint and gestures back to the fire escape. “Let’s all go back inside then.” The four of them make their way back into the apartment, Tony chattering idly about all the things in his tower he wants to show Bucky and Steve is railroaded by how great his friends are. 

They could have berated Steve for moving too fast with Bucky, or for meeting him through a pen pal program, or given him the “you can’t fall in love through letters” line. But no, they welcomed the news with open minds. Natasha had welcomed Bucky into her apartment and made him a part of the group, including him in Secret Santa. 

And Sam has Bucky on the couch with him, in the middle of a game of overwatch, explaining how the game works and showing Bucky certain moves with the character he’s playing. Steve can tell by the tension in his boyfriend’s shoulders that he’s about to his socialising limit, but the brunet is still listening attentively to everything Sam is saying and asking questions. 

It makes Steve so happy to see Bucky interacting with his friends, to see his friends open their arms and welcome his boyfriend into their lives just because he’s with Steve. Bucky May have experienced a terrible loss, but Steve likes to think he’s gaining friends along the way. 

“Time to go?” Sam asks when he sees Steve hovering. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies, “I want to get home before the roads ice over.” Steve starts saying his goodbyes, making his way around the room. Natasha pulls Bucky into a hug, and to Steve’s surprise; he hugs her back and then Clint in turn. Bucky and Sam shake hands and Tony hands him a card with his information so they can set up a time for Bucky to come to the tower. 

Once they’re outside, the soldier’s shoulders sag a little bit and he latches onto Steve’s hand. Steve notes the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes, the way he’s dragging his feet, and wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist. 

“Tired?” he asks casually, pulling his keys out of his pocket. 

“Just ready to go home,” Bucky murmurs, fiddling with the helmet in his hand. Steve’s heart swells when Bucky says that—Steve’s home is his home. He doesn’t comment as he gets on the bike, holding it stable for Bucky to climb on behind him. 

It’s a quiet drive home. Steve takes the side-roads back, staying away from the bars and the party-goers in the heart of the city. Bucky is intermittently pressing kisses to the exposed skin on the back of Steve’s neck, and Steve feels warmth spread down his spine every time. It’s still snowing, and Steve is glad they left when they did or they may not have been able to make it home. 

As soon as they get inside, Bucky kicks his shoes off and makes his way past the screaming cats straight for the bathroom. Assuming Bucky just needs a hot shower, Steve goes about feeding the animals, hushing them as he refills their dishes. The shower turns on just as Steve walks into the bedroom, stripping his jacket and socks off and tossing them in the hamper. 

Bucky has left the door open, and Steve untucks his shirt as he walks in to take his medicine. Warm steam greets him, fogging up his glasses so bad Steve is forced to take them off. Peeking over at the shower, Steve can see Bucky’s naked form through the translucent glass. He stares for longer than is probably necessary, and then takes his meds and goes back into the bedroom. Grabbing his sketchpad from the nightstand, he flips to the portrait of Bucky he’s been working on and begins to shade. 

His friends were asking him all night when Bucky leaves, and how he feels about it, and now it’s really starting to hit Steve that his boyfriend  _is_  leaving in less than a week. And he doesn’t know what to do. There’s nothing really  _to_  do, seeing as Bucky still has half of his tour to finish up, and Steve doesn’t know if Bucky wants to reenlist or not. Selfishly, Steve wants Bucky to rotate out and come back home, but he’ll be supportive either way. 

They both knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but it’s worth it to Steve. Bucky is worth it. 

The water turns off in the bathroom and Steve keeps sketching, almost done with the portrait he started last week. He can’t ever seem to get the blue of Bucky’s eyes right, so he opts for grayscale. One day, he’s going to spend hours mixing paints to get the colour just right.

But right now, Bucky is flopping down shirtless on the bed and Steve is distracted by the muscles in his back. 

“Massage?” Steve offers, and Bucky grumbles what sounds like  _yes, please_  into the pillows. Moving so that he’s straddling Bucky’s ass, Steve starts to work the knots out of his boyfriend’s shoulders and back. The brunet lets out an obscene moan as Steve’s fingers dig into his shoulders, and Steve’s dick takes notice. 

Steve is sure Bucky can feel it, but thankfully his boyfriend doesn’t say anything. The soldier’s back is like stone, and Steve kicks himself for not doing this before now. Bucky obviously needs it, but he never let on he was in pain. The metal arm has to affect him in some way—it’s got to be heavy.

Resolved to pay more attention to his boyfriend’s tells, Steve works his way down Bucky’s spine, relieving the tension there. 

When he’s finally done, Steve’s fingers ache, but it was worth it. Bucky is boneless beneath him, and Steve would’ve thought he was asleep if he weren’t nudging his ass up into Steve. Grinning, Steve pulls back to rid Bucky of his pants and then turn him over onto his back. The brunet just gazed at him as Steve gets situated between muscular thighs. 

His boyfriend is hard already, and Steve dips his head down to lap at the head before taking it into his mouth. He’ll never get over how much he loves sucking Bucky off—the weight of it, the taste, the way Bucky moans when Steve takes him down into his throat. It’s one of Steve’s favourite things to do, so much so that Bucky has taken to letting him do it basically whenever he wants. 

“Take your clothes off, Stevie,” Bucky says impatiently. Steve does as he’s told, pulling off Bucky’s dick and removing his clothing. “I want you,” the brunet murmurs, almost shyly. Steve has never topped before, but he couldn’t image a more perfect person to share this with. And if Bucky wants it, Steve would be hard-pressed to say no. Grabbing the lube off the table, Steve comes back and kneels on the bed between Bucky’s spread legs and teases his cock with soft caresses. 

“It’s supposed to be easier if you turn over,” Steve suggests, but Bucky shakes his head. 

“Wanna see you.” So Steve begins to open him up, one hand still stroking him slowly. Bucky gets impatient after about ten minutes, pulling Steve down to kiss him hungrily. “I’m ready,” he promises, lining Steve up with his hole. “I want you.” Taking a deep breath, Steve pushes in slowly. He definitely doesn’t want to hurt Bucky, even if his boyfriend doesn’t mind. They can be rough some other time. 

Steve takes his time, relishing in the heat of Bucky’s body. He knows he’s not going to last, but it looks like Bucky isn’t either. So he keeps his pace slow, sensual, and leans down to kiss his boyfriend. 

“I love you,” Steve whispers, kissing down Bucky’s neck. “All of you.” He kisses over Bucky’s metal shoulder for emphasis and grinds into his boyfriend, searching for his prostate. 

“Stevie,” Bucky breathes, nails raking down Steve’s back. Repeating the motion, Steve reaches a hand up to cup Bucky’s face, bringing him back into a kiss. He nips at Bucky’s bottom lip and groans deep in his throat when Bucky lifts his hips up to take Steve deeper. 

“Fuck,” Steve mutters, and can’t help but pick up the pace. Bucky is moaning now, and he’s so close Steve can almost taste it. “Come for me, Buck,” Steve whispers as he himself comes, not able to hold back any longer. Bucky’s eyes are squeezed shut, hair in his face, head thrown back and Steve reaches a hand down to jack him off, still thrusting through his own orgasm. “C’mon, baby, I know you're close.” Bucky’s eyes pop open and he locks gazes with Steve. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth, and if that isn’t the hottest thing Steve's ever seen—Bucky trying to keep quiet while Steve fucks him nice and deep.

“Steve,” Bucky cries, back arching off the bed and coming violently between their bodies. He really is a work of art, and Steve vows to himself never to take Bucky for granted. Not just because of the amazing sex, but because of how much Steve loves him, how much he means to Steve. It really is amazing how they found each other, and Steve thanks the Universe every day for giving him Bucky.

He’d been living, but not really alive for so long. He’d thought he’d had it all—money, his dream job, friends. He thought he’d finally made it. But Bucky has completed him in was he didn’t even know he needed. He knows he doesn’t need a guy to make him happy, he’d been happy before. But Bucky gets him in a way none of his previous partners had. Peggy had been close—she’d been his best friend—but Bucky tops even her.

After a moment of catching his breath, Steve pulls out gently and cleans them up as best he can. Bucky hasn’t moved, hair in his face and still coming down from what looked like a mind-blowing orgasm. After a moment of looking at him, Steve realises he’s fallen asleep. Grabbing the duvet from where it’d been pulled down, Steve covers Bucky’s naked body on the bed. The brunet tends to get cold easily. Pushing his boyfriend’s hair out of his face, Steve presses a kiss to his forehead and sighs, envious of how quick the brunet has fallen asleep.

Steve however knows he won’t be able to sleep. He’s too amped up and still a little high, so he goes out into the living room and boots up his PS4. Seeing that Sam is online, he sends a party invite and jumps on Overwatch to join his group. When Sam accepts the party invite, Steve expects him to say hello, or what’s up, but no.  

“Why the fuck are you still up and not asleep with your boy?” Sam asks, and Steve cracks a smile. Always straight to the point. 

“He’s asleep,” Steve explains. “And I knew I wouldn’t be able to.” Putting them in queue for a game, Steve waits for Sam to say something. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Sam asks after a while, and Steve knows his best friend wanted to ask about it directly, but he knows Steve well enough to give him a choice. Steve’s never liked being forced into things, especially not talking about his feelings. He keeps to himself mostly—doesn’t like to burden his friends with his problems. He’d rather be the listener than the talker, but tonight he needs some advice. And Sam give the _best_ advice, even if he tends to call Steve on his bullshit. Steve needs that. 

“He leaves next week,” Steve says, trying to focus on the game they’re currently dominating instead of the emotions swirling through him.  

“That’s gotta be rough,” Sam replies, and Steve sighs. “How much longer does he have?”

“Six months,” Steve says. “And I know in the grand scheme of things it’s not that long, but . . .” Honestly Steve doesn’t want to face this conversation, but knowing that Bucky leaves soon, they have to. And he wants to get it straight with Sam first before he brings it to Bucky.

“But he may reenlist,” Sam finishes for him, and Steve thanks his lucky stars for his best friend. “And you’re worried about him.” And since Sam has opened up the conversation, Steve lets it all out, telling Sam everything he’s been afraid of.  

That Bucky will get hurt, and that Steve won’t know about it. Because while Bucky’s team knows he and Steve are together, none of them have any way to contact him. Bucky’s already been through hell and Steve is afraid that he can’t take much more. 

He’s afraid that they won’t be able to make it work. That Bucky won’t have enough time to stay in contact, or that he won’t be able to. Maybe he’ll be sent on a mission where he can’t have any contact with anyone. Maybe he’ll decide that it’s too much work; that they’re better off apart. He already thinks he’s not good enough for Steve, and being apart won’t alleviate that.  

He’s afraid Bucky might let his demons have him—that he’ll give up and stop fighting. That he’ll decide the pain is too much to handle, and do something drastic. Bucky doesn’t have access to a therapist, he’d said so himself, and Steve knows holding all of your pain in is unhealthy, but Bucky apparently doesn’t have another choice. He can't even talk about it with Steve because most of what he’s experienced is confidential.

“Is there something I can say, or do, to make him believe me?” Steve asks, the game pretty much forgotten, even though they’re still winning. “That I love him the way he is, and that he never has to try and be something he’s not?” Because Bucky needs to know. That Steve wants him just the way he is—broken but trying. And Steve can see the light in Bucky—when he laughs, when he smiles, when he drops soft kisses to the top of Steve’s head. He sees Bucky’s softness, but he’s afraid that when Bucky goes back overseas he’ll lose that.

“I think you said it all, Steve,” Sam replies. “If you could see the way he looks at you, you’d know he couldn’t walk away from you if he tried.” Considering this for a moment, Steve is quiet. He knows Sam is right, but he’s honestly afraid to voice this to Bucky. Doesn’t want to put ideas in his head or voice something Bucky’d been afraid of himself. 

“He just needs to  _know_ ,” Steve murmurs, almost to himself, and Sam lets out a groan. 

“Then you have to talk to him, man,” Sam says, tone purposefully gentle. “You can't just expect him to know what you're feeling. Communication is key, especially in a long-distance relationship.” There’s a pause in the conversation as their team makes a last ditch effort to hold the point, and Steve knows Sam is right. He needs to talk to Bucky, and he needs to do it soon.

“Fuck yeah,” Steve says as the game times out and the victory screen pops up. “I know you're right, I just don’t know how to talk about him leaving without him feeling guilty about it. Because it’s not his fault—that’s his job.” Steve knows Sam gets it—he was in the military for a while himself.

“My best advice is to stop being afraid and tell him how you're feeling,” Sam replies, not unkindly. “It may make him feel bad for a moment, but you can also reassure him that you don’t blame him, it’s a shitty situation.” Resigned to the fact that he’s going to have to bring it up to Bucky, Steve thanks Sam and bids him goodnight. 

Sitting in the dark, Steve ponders how to bring this up to Bucky and when. It’s never going to be a good time seeing as Bucky leaving is something neither of them _want_ to discuss. They’ve both been content pretending like Bucky is going to be here forever, like he doesn’t have to go back into combat in a week. And Steve doesn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable or make him feel like this is a burden on Steve because it’s not. Bucky could never be a burden, but Steve is anxious about the unknown.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, voice sleep-heavy. Steve whips around to face his boyfriend—still naked, but with a blanket wrapped around him. “Who were you talking to?” Bucky walks over to curl into Steve on the couch, resting his head on Steve's shoulder.

“Sam,” Steve replies. “We played a game of Overwatch.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Bucky asks around a yawn, and Steve nods. “I heard most of that conversation,” Bucky informs him, and Steve stiffens. Not angry necessarily, more embarrassed that Bucky had overheard. He’s not ready, he hasn’t figured out how he wants to say things, he’s not ready—“Do you want to talk about it?” His tone is gentle, and Steve’s heart aches.

“What all did you hear?” Steve asks, deflecting for a little longer.

“That you're afraid I’ll get hurt over there,” Bucky murmurs, making eye contact. And Steve finds he can't look away. “Or that I’ll hurt myself, or just stop fighting. You’re afraid I’ll break up with you, that it’ll be too hard—which, yeah, no. Absolutely not. Like you said, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Steve pulls Bucky closer to him. “I love you, okay?” Bucky says, hand cupping Steve face. “We’re gonna be fine, baby.” Letting his boyfriend comfort him, Steve leans down for a kiss. 

“I just worry about you,” Steve says, barely above a whisper. “With everything you’ve been through, and the fact that you can't even talk to me about it . . .”

“I know,” Bucky replies, glancing up at Steve. “It’s hard, I'm not gonna lie to you. It’s so damn hard to even do simple things when I'm home. But . . . when I'm over there, when I’m on mission, it’s like I flip a switch. I'm still Bucky Barnes, just a different version of him. More calculating, analytical. It’s how I’ve survived for so long.” Bucky doesn’t look at Steve, and Steve says quiet—processing this new information.

“Whatever keeps you safe,” Steve murmurs. “And brings you back to me.” They hadn't talked about Bucky reenlisting, but they’ll get there. Steve’s sure this wasn’t easy for Bucky—letting Steve in—and Steve is grateful. “I love you,” Steve tells the brunet, and Bucky smiles up at him. “Let’s go back to bed.” Steve feels more at peace now that they’ve talked, and Bucky’s reassurance sticks with him as they drift of to sleep. 

-

It’s the day Bucky goes back, and Steve thought he’d be better prepared. He thought he’d be able to do this, to send Bucky back off to war and be strong for him. But after a whole month of being together, of Bucky basically living with him, it’s a lot harder than he thought it would be. 

Bucky’s flight leaves at ass-o’clock in the morning and they’re driving to the airport now. Nat had loaned them her car again, and Steve is both grateful and not. Had Steve taken the bike, he’d have Bucky’s arms wrapped snugly around his waist right now, but since they’re in a car, he settles for Bucky’s hand clasped tightly in his. 

They’d gone to the cemetery yesterday to visit Steve’s mom, and it went better than expected. He’d expected Bucky to think he was crazy, since Steve likes to talk to her, but he’d understood. He’d even promised her he’d take care of Steve, and that he’d have loved to meet her. It made Steve tear up, thinking about what could’ve been—his mom would’ve loved Bucky just as much as he does. 

They’d put new flowers on the gravestone and cleaned it up a bit, brushing off the dirt and moss. Steve knows the cemetery has people for that, but he feels better doing it himself. It’s almost like he gets to take care of her, even in death. 

They visited Rebecca next, driving to a different cemetery. Bucky’d introduced them like she was there, and proceeded to give his sister the run-down of his life since they last spoke. Steve stood back and let Bucky have this—he hadn’t been able to go to the funeral and Steve wasn’t about to impose on this moment. He does however kneel by the stone and vow to Becca that he’ll take care of Bucky.

Steve figures he owes her that much, even if they’d never met. 

After tears and soft-spoken regrets, Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve and tugged him away. Thinking about it now in the car, Steve makes it a point to remember to put flowers on order for Rebecca’s grave just like he had for his mom. 

Now navigating the airport parking lot, Steve feels a knot forming in his stomach. He knows Bucky has to leave, and he doesn’t begrudge him that, Steve just wishes he didn’t have to go so soon. This last month has been the best in Steve’s life. He’s finally felt really truly happy for the first time since his mother died and now he has to give Bucky back to the front lines, to his team, and to his demons. 

They’ve talked a bit more since Bucky overheard his talk with Sam, and Bucky’s tried his best to reassure Steve that he’ll be safe, that he has a good team around him. But even Bucky will admit that military life, especially Special Forces, is unpredictable. He can't promise he’ll come home, and he can't promise Steve _forever_. But Bucky loves him, and Steve knows this—it gives him the courage to walk Bucky into the airport.

Bucky takes Steve’s hand as they traverse the busy airport, and thank god Bucky doesn’t have to check a bag. They go as far as Steve can go with him, and then they wait. Only one of Bucky’s team is also departing from New York—Timothy Dugan. Steve’s heard a lot about the man in Bucky’s stories, and Steve is quite excited to meet Bucky’s second in command.

A man clad in the same fatigues as Bucky comes into view, with a very impressive moustache and a bowler hat. Steve knows immediately that this man is Corporal Dugan. Bucky breaks out in a huge grin and steps forward to meet the man in a handshake that turns into a rough hug. Timothy grins at Steve over Bucky’s shoulder and gives him a wave, and Steve can't help but smile at the scene in front of him.

“Steve, this is Dum Dum,” Bucky introduces them. “Dum Dum, this is my boyfriend Steve.” And is it ridiculous that Steve’s heart flutters when Bucky calls him his _boyfriend_? 

“Heya, Steve,” Dum Dum says, reaching a hand out to him. Steve shakes it, and the man brings Steve in for a hug, too. After releasing him, he says, “That’s for those cookies that I had to pry out of Sarge’s greedy hands.” Dum Dum flashes Steve a grin, and Bucky pouts in mock-hurt. 

“He made them for _me_ though,” Bucky almost whines, and Steve grins.

“This time around I’ll make sure to send enough for the whole team,” Steve promises. “Maybe one batch for Bucky and one batch for everyone else?”

“More like two batches for Sergeant No Touchy,” Dum Dum mutters. He and Steve cracks up, and after a moment of indignation, Bucky laughs along with them. The Corporal excuses himself to go buy a coffee, and Steve knows this is where he and Bucky part.

They’d said their goodbyes last night, because Bucky can't kiss Steve like he wants to in his fatigues in a public place like this. But the brunet does hold him close, placing a kiss on Steve’s temple.

“I love you,” the brunet whispers. “I’ll message you as soon as we touch down and I have service.” Nodding, Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s neck. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers into Bucky’s shirt, and his boyfriend squeezes him one more time before letting go. “Keep yourself and your team safe,” Steve reminds him solemnly, and Bucky nods.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” Bucky asks, letting go of Steve’s hands and stepping away toward security.

“I’ll see you soon,” Steve echoes, and Bucky sends him one last glance before turning around and walking away.


End file.
